


Of Monsters & Men

by 4ever_Rewritten



Series: Of Monsters & Men [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: 1920s, Aka: This may be a romance with Graves, And a lot of headcanons, And he will get better, And headcanon on Rapaports law, And never mind this is highly illegal for Percival, Angst! Angst is coming, Assumptions regarding MACUSA, Bad depiction of 1920 CPS, But he still gets wumped on, But we have a gay bartender, Credence Barebone Deserves Better, DAMN THIS IS A LONG STORY, Did I mention nomaj reader?, F/M, Gen, Gonna be a ride, Grindelwald is not a nice person, He does have issues with it, Headcanon for natural Legilimens, Headcanon regarding Wampus, I mean it IS the 1920s, I'm trying to keep it true to the era, Let alone the equal rights issues, Magical cat that has more sense than most everyone in this story, May be sin ahead., Nahuel does not., Now on to part two!!, Obviously there's hints of the racism that was rampant, Platonic relationship is just as prominate as the romantic one, Please Don't Kill Me, Pre-Movie, Queenie is the friend we don't deserve but need, Sin is here, Slow Burn, Torture, Turbulent times and a headstrong female reader, Vanilla-flavored sin, Will go through the movie, but still sin., but there is plently love for Credence too, fluff too, omg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 94,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ever_Rewritten/pseuds/4ever_Rewritten
Summary: From a young age, wizarding children were taught to be wary of no-majs. There was no choice but to live amongst them, despite the dangers. And it was impossible to avoid them, especially in a city such as New York. So they had to blend in. Be polite, but distant. Kind but aloof. To be anything else was dangerous. Be rude and evoke suspicion and hatred. Too friendly and it drew people too close and risked being caught.Percival had been taught the law as a child, followed it faithfully as a teen, and enforced it as an adult. But one moment of being a gentleman towards a frazzled no-maj would set on a course that changed his opinion on the law between magic and no-maj worlds.Chapters 1-27: Part One (pre-movie and movie)Chapters 28+: Part Two (post movie)Expect a lot of world building for the American Wizarding world, headcanons, and other fun stuff. And also slow updates, but never a deadfic.





	1. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fresh to New York, you run into a very handsome gentleman. Surely it's the first and last time you ever see him in one of the largest cities of the country, right?
> 
> Edited 1-18-18

Nahuel trotted the sidewalks, led by boredom to wander the quiet streets of New York. Though, if he was looking for attention, he had picked the wrong time of night as the streets were virtually destitute as the clocks chimed one in the morning. Occasionally an automobile would pass along the street, or someone would stumble from the hidden Speakeasies dotting the city. None of them seem to notice him, and he barely took note of them in return.  


Eventually, a familiar scent mixed with the fumes and stench made him pause, tawny ears twitching at the muffled sobs. It was easy to follow the source to a few blocks away. A young man stuck between a teenager and an adult huddled in the shadows along with the muck and mire of a dirty back alley. His face was pressed into his knees as his chest heaved with suppressed sobs. Not at all what the tawny cat had expected, but his expectations were quickly forgot as he trotted over to the boy, sitting expectantly by his side. When it was obvious the human wasn’t going to notice him, Nahuel butted his head against the boy’s bent leg, purring loudly on purpose to gain attention.  


Credence gasped as his head shot up, his eyes flickering from white to dark brown as he noticed the cat. Nahuel felt the ripple of magic shoot from the young man before it was suppressed once more, but only hesitated for a moment before he rubbed his face against the cold hand.  


***  


A dozen oranges jumped from your bag as you collided with someone else. The fruit rolled across the dirty sidewalk, many being kicked by careless pedestrians too busy to notice or care.  


“I-I am so sorry!” you gushed as you quickly bent to gather the fallen fruit, setting your second bag on the ground and hoping it wouldn’t be kicked yet again. You were sure this day couldn’t be worse. Mrs. Shapiro had given you a list and sent you on your way with a purse of cash and no other direction, leading to literal hours trying to find everything on the sloppily-written list. And if that exhausting trial hadn’t been enough, trying to carry two overflowing bags plus a basket down crowded unfamiliar sidewalks had led to four similar collisions.  


Too busy with trying to find everything, you hadn't really noticed whom you had collided with until your hand brushed his while reaching for an errant apple. Your already fluttering heart paused before pounding after meeting the stranger's dark eyes.  


Oh.  


He was rather handsome, making your face flush even further. Older, but not greatly so; very faint frown lines at the corners of his eyes and his black hair stylishly slicked-back and turning silver near his temple. And from the well fitting suit, he had to be well off, which made you feel even worse about ramming into him.  


Oddly, he offered a quirk of a smile, placing the apple in the bag before offering a hand. You felt embarrassed but accepted the help up, trying to hold on to the oranges you had gathered close to your chest. “I-I am really sorry about that, sir. I should’ve watched where I was going. It’s just so crowded here and I ain’t really familiar yet to the city and I can barely see with these bags and gosh, I’m rambling, ain’t I?”  


The ghost of a smile stayed as he bent down to pick up the second bag before you could, and then held it out for you to deposit the oranges. Hopefully Mrs. Shapiro didn’t mind a few bruises. “You’re fine. I should’ve been more observant as well.” Except, instead of offering the bag back, he shifted it his arms and asked, “How far from here do you live?”  


“Uh, er, Mrs. Shapiro’s boarding house on 30th street. I-I’m not sure how far it is.” You remembered the way, vaguely, but honestly you were a bit fuzzy. This was only your second week in New York, and the first time having wandered this far by yourself.  


There was a flash of something his eyes--suspicion maybe-- but it was gone before you could really question it. “Then you're heading the wrong way. You should have turned a few blocks back.”  


You cursed at the revelation; “Seriously? Goddamn it, I knew this looked unfamiliar....” You paused, realizing the curse slipping out wasn’t probably proper for ladies in the big city. After all you never heard the end of it back home. Oddly, he didn’t seem too shocked...or maybe that was ‘thankfully’ considering your next question. “Um…which street was I supposed to turn at?” you continued meekly.  


He shook his head, a faint amused expression twitching at his lips and lighting his dark eyes. “Follow me.”  


“What? Oh no, you don’t need to do that, sir! I-I can handle it. I mean, thank you very much for the offer but I don’t want to inconvenience you any further. You probably have places to go and things to do and….” you trailed off, rather mortified as he chuckled.  


“As it happens, I don’t live far from there,” he explained with a smile. “It would be rude not to offer help.”  


“Oh. Well, I suppose…. I just don’t want to be a bother.” But really, help would be wonderful. And while your family had grilled you about accepting ‘help’ from strangers and not to be as trusting as you were back home (or in their words, gullible), there was an odd feeling you could trust him. Hopefully it was intuition and not your naiveness rearing its head.  


***  


It had been a trying week ever since the threat of magical exposure suddenly jumped from Level Two of ‘Slight Possibility’ to A Level Three ‘Moderate Risk’ Everyone was scrambling to figure out _why_ and being both the Director of MACUSA’s Magical Security and Law enforcement as well as Picquery’s right-hand meant all eyes were on him and his department to find the cause.  


Except there was no leads. Nothing except random blimps of potent magic flaring and disappearing within seconds, leading a few to question if there wasn’t something faulty with the centuries-old detection spells.  


All Graves wanted to do that afternoon was to lose himself in the anonymity New York provided. Out here, most of the people that passed him by paid him no attention. He was nothing. Just another face. Just another person trying to get by. It was strange how relaxing it was, allowing him to breathe freely and relax for a few precious moments.  


Until he got rammed in the gut unexpectedly and all of the tension came back in a tidal wave. He had his wand in his palm before the groceries had even hit the ground, expecting an attack. Except the only curses that flew were the no-maj variety as you swooped down to pick up the items that had tumbled to the ground. He hesitated for a brief moment to assure that this wasn’t some odd ambush before following the manners instilled in him and assisting you.  


You had gushed and rambled with a faint country accent, apologizing several times with a blush on your cheeks that had been more than a little attractive. It caught him off guard , his mind distracted until you mentioned how close you lived to him. His suspicion reared its head but a quick and silent _Legilimens_ assured that yes, you were just a no-maj in a very odd coincidence.  


As he escorted you home, he found the peace he had been looking for while you chattered away about your rather simple life. There had been a near constant blush on your face, hinting at your nerves, but it wasn’t anything he saw as Director. In the moment, he was just a gentleman escorting a rather lovely lady home, and it was a kind of contentment he never imagined he would experience, let alone desire to repeat again. He almost regretted not asking for your name, even when you had not-quite-subtly asked for his on the stoop of the women’s boarding house. It was odd to hear _‘Mr. Graves’_ spoken without the usual professional respect, but a slight teasing lit that, in all honesty, he could have become very easily accustomed to.  


Except, Rappaport’s law quickly turned that thought sour as he bid you goodnight, struggling to hold on to his smile as reality crashed his daydream.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chance meeting, but this time with a certain set of adopted siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters get longer. I swear. And more interesting.
> 
> edited: 2/24/18

Your boss, McNally, had left the shop on an errand, and the small deli and grocery store was quiet now that the noon-hour rush had died down, leaving you to people-watch through the large front windows. The small, pale girl and tall young man caught your attention as they handed out flyers on the sidewalk in front of the store....or at least they were trying to. Everyone seemed to pass the two without even a glance, let alone pausing for the slightest of moments to accept a piece of paper.

The girl paused after a moment, a hand pressed to her stomach as she tugged on the older boy’s sleeve. He had a struck look on his face as he realized her question, and reluctantly shook his head. Maybe the hardened New Yorker could pass by two hungry children, (well, the boy wasn’t quite a child, but the point still stood) but you couldn’t. You quickly made up two sandwiches back in the small breakroom and grabbed two bottles of Coke. 

“Excuse me,” you called out as you approached the two a few minutes later. The girl was startled, her pale eyes wide while the boy looked wary, stepping in front of the child. You offered a soft smile along with the sandwiches and drinks. “Here. You guys looked kinda hungry.”

The girl was hesitant only for a short moment before she grabbed the sandwich and the bottle. The young man was far more hesitant, his dark eyes shadowed by his hat as he continued to eye you cautiously. “It’s okay,” you reassured. “No charge. You guys looked hungry and I’m not one to ignore someone in need.”

He fleetingly met your eyes before glancing away again. He was tentative but finally accepted the offer. You couldn’t help but smile as he tucked the flyer in a pocket and sipped at the drink. “So, what are your names?”

“Modesty,” the girl answered cheerfully as she finished half of her sandwich in a few bites. “He’s Credence.” She paused before picking out a flyer tucked in her satchel and handed it to you. “We’re spreading truth about witches.”

At first, you chuckled as you accepted the flyer. Surely this was an odd joke, or a game. But there was nothing childish or playful about it. The flyer looked professionally done with a woodcut image of naked women dancing around a smoking cauldron. The text inside read like one of those hateful rants you had heard in the past; usually when the pastor had too much to drink. “Momma hunts the witches,” Modesty continued after a moment with the conviction only a child could have. “She ain’t gonna let them ruin our world.”

“I...see.” Credence looked rather ashamed and avoided your gaze when you glanced at him. Ah, so he knew how silly that sounded. There was a pause before you continued far more upbeat: “Well, if you need anything, you come back here, okay?” It was easy to see both of them looked a little on the lean side, especially judging by the way Modesty had all but inhaled her food. 

“Ma doesn’t like it when we talk to strangers for too long,” Credence spoke quietly after a second when Modestly had all but beamed at your apparent acceptance. The sulleness in his voice spoke of learned pessimism, which only made you more determined.

“Well then,” you offered a hand and your name, your smile everything but fake as he hesitantly accepted it. “There, now you know my name and I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

The was a look of surprise on his face, and the grip on your hand tightened just a little before he hastily let go. Modesty grabbed your hand instead, shaking it with a smile on her face. “We don’t have any friends other than the other orphans,” she confided. “People don’t like us much.”

Well, with odd leaflets and a mother that apparently believed in such things as witches and magic despite living in the twentieth century, it was little wonder. But you filed that little tidbit away in your mind, leaving it unvoiced. 

***

The week wore into a couple more, and you had developed as routine when the pair appeared on the street in attempt to ‘spread the word.’ Which quickly went to a few times a week to nearly every day. And as long as you paid him for the sandwiches, McNally turned a blind eye to your lunch dates, though you heard a snide remark afterwards about the leaflets that usually were left abandoned on one of the few tables of the deli side. And honestly, you agreed with him, in your head at least. The thought that a person believed in such things and recruited her children and other orphans to spread such ridiculous things made you roll your eyes. But the few time he had sneered in front of the pair, you had given him a pointed glare. Modesty had this naivety that was common in children her age, and believed in it as much as she believed in fairies and unicorns, and didn’t see the absurdity. 

But her adopted brother Credence was fully aware of it, as well as the fact that everyone belittled them behind their backs. And it was evident in the way he walked with his shoulders hunched, always looking down at his shoes and rarely glancing up to meet your eyes, even when talking. Everything about him reminded you of a beaten pup, worried and fully expecting someone to just start wailing on him out of the blue. 

You had always been prone to making up the mantle of defender for the bullied and the downtrodden. Ang it was _very_ obvious Credence fell into that category. 

Except where your bullheaded determination often helped in the past, it was a hindrance this time. Anything that could be even faintly construed as criticism had him flinching and retreating back into his shell, putting you back at square one. But while it frustrated you ro no end, it also fueled your determination. You wanted to show him that he wasn’t as bad as he seemed to believe. His self esteem was lower than dirt, and his mother, from what you could gather from Modesty, always reinforced the idea. 

Finally, inspiration struck on another slow day. Credence was half-heartedly attempting to hand out flyers while Modesty had abandoned them completely. She was sitting near the door, playing quietly with the small doll you had given her earlier. She gave you a glance when you opened the door, and you offered a smile before focusing on Credence. “Credence, can you be a dear and help me for a moment?”

There was a wary expression on his face when he glanced briefly towards you. His gaze fell towards Modesty beside you, before he pocketed the pamphlets and meekly followed you into the store, silent as you lead him back into the store room. 

“You see those bags of flour?” You pointed up to the shelf about a foot too high where the bags in question rested innocently. “I can’t find that darn footstool anywhere and hoped you could reach ‘em for me.”

Sure enough, just as you planned while hiding the step stool in the broom closet, he had little difficulty reaching the five-pound bags. You gave a grin as you accepted a bag and hoisted it in one arm. “Perfect! Give me a few more and then if you could carry the others, it would help me out so much.”

He offered no protest, and even seemed a little bashful as he followed you back into the store proper a few moments later. You counted it as a win solely on the fact he didn’t appear haunted as usual as he helped you restock the shelves. So, of course you used it as a reason to find him a few other things to do as well. The boys height was a boon as he easily reached things you would have struggled with otherwise, even with the still-hidden step stool. 

“Perfect!” You clapped your hands as he finished the last job you gave him: getting the darn cobwebs in the high corners that had plagued you for the last week. “Thank you so much Credence,” you gushed as you pulled a dollar from the pocket of your apron. “Here, you earned it.” He met your eyes--briefly, but it was longer than any time before, before he looked away and shook his head reluctantly. 

“I-I can’t ma’am.” he muttered quietly, his voice soft enough you could barely hear him. “Ma...Ma wouldn’t approve.”

A frown crossed your face. The more you heard of their mother the less you liked her. The need to press him and encourage him to take the money despite whatever his mother thought nagged at you, but you forced yourself to tuck the bill back into the pocket. Being your usual bossy self was not going to work here, and you needed to pick and choose your battles. “Well then, we’ll start an account for you. That way you can come here and buy whatever you want, whenever you want. Would that work?”

His met your eyes briefly again, surprise coloring his face and you swore there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he looked away and nodded his head. “I-I would like that, ma’am.”

“Perfect,” you grinned, mentally cheering. “And I told you, you can call me by my name. I’m not that much older than you.”

“Yes ma’am,” he repeated abashedly as if your tease was an actual scolding, which made you silently swear as he unconsciously flinched when he caught his slip. “S-sorry. I-I mean…” 

“Hey, whatever you're comfortable with,” you reassured him again, ducking so you could look him in the eye while your hand rested on his arm. “I suppose I am a bit bossy enough to be a ma’am, huh?” He didn’t speak, but the trepidation eased from his expression and made you smile a bit more in return. “Alright. Now, make sure you and Modesty grab a few of those penny candies before you leave. McNally wants to start selling another brand but we gotta get rid of these ones first.” Actually, he had said nothing of the like except for a passing comment, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. 

Especially as you heard Credence echo Modesty’s thanks later that afternoon, your first name replacing your usual title.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange cat, and a certain gentlemen. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're a cliche wannabe singer...but to be fair, back in the 1920s career opportunities were quite limited. 
> 
> Itty-bitty chapter.
> 
> edited 2/24/18

You heard the faint meow, but ignored it as you stared down at the letter clutched tightly in your hand. Yet another letter of rejection from one of the clubs you had applied as a singer. They admitted in their professional prose that while you could perform and your voice was decent, all of that didn’t matter. Your mannerisms were ‘off-putting’ and they didn’t want to hire a ‘loose’ woman, all based on your age and lack of a husband or at least even a fiance. Especially since you had admitted to looking to support yourself instead of finding a man to marry. 

A soft headbutt to your clenched fist dragged you out of your dark thoughts. You wiped away your tears and looked down at the large yet lean tawny cat that was demanding your attention. You had picked the deserted alley in hopes of being alone, but the cat apparently had other ideas. He continued to rub against your leg until you slowly relaxed from your huddled position, knees dropping from your chin to stretch out before you, allowing him the climb onto your lap. Thankfully you were hidden by the trash of the alley from pedestrians seeing your unladylike position, though that was the last thought on your mind as a watery smile graced your face when the cat purred strongly against your hand. 

“Hey sweetie,” you murmured, feeling overwhelmingly thankful for his unexpected appearance. Anything to help you push away the hurt inside your heart, and with him eagerly eating up the attention you gave him you found your smile becoming really with a soft laugh escaping as he flopped down your legs, allowing you to scratch the soft fur of his stomach. It was easy to see the black collar against his sleek fur, which felt like high-quality leather as you took a look at the simple golden medallion. The initials ‘P.G.’ were engraved in the metal, but nothing else. “Well, I guess you’re no alley cat.”

The cat twitched his oddly long tail as he adjusted himself to sit on your lap so he could look up at you. His eyes were a piercing gold mixed with flecks of green, and for a moment it felt like he was gazing into to your soul, able to see right through you. Your stomach squirmed for some reason until he gave a lazy blink, ending the strange feeling. In that short moment, he apparently decided he had enough attention as he jumped from your lap to the muddied brick. There was a stabbing sense of loss as he sauntered away a few steps before pausing. He looked back at you, his tail giving a quick flick before he let loose a short call. 

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask. If cats could roll their eyes, you had a feeling he would before he meowed again. Maybe the letter had affected you more than you realized, but you had an odd sense he was trying to tell you something. “Do you...want me to follow you?”

He purred loudly in reply, stretching slightly but continued to wait. Okay. That settled it. You had lost your mind by the rejections...or more likely, this was just one really bad dream from the bootlegged liquor one of the girls had smuggled in last night. Still, following a strange cat was better than sitting in a dirty alley wallowing in misery. 

The cat seemed pleased as you stood up, threading between your legs before sauntering a few yards only to pause and look back to assure you were following him. You were still uncertain if this was real or not as you followed the cat out of the alley and down the busy sidewalk. No one else seemed to notice the cat, which made you more inclined to believe it was a dream. He was hard to miss between his large size, the sleek dusky-red colored fur, and an overly long tail that he held high in the air. Yet no one gave you a second look as you followed him down the sidewalks, or when he would pause for you to catch up.

He did garner a few wary looks when he would yowl impatiently at a street corner if you were caught up in the crowd and going too slow for his liking. But a glance and their attention moved one without a second thought, mystifying you even more. Was that just being a hardened New Yorker that nothing surprised them? 

After several blocks in a twisting and turning route that left you rather disoriented, the cat jumped up onto the stoop of an brownstone apartment, sitting near the golden-gilded door that looked like it should have a doorman standing guard. “Is this your home?” You asked as you walked up the steps. It should have been rhetorical, but the cat gave you a pointed look, as if to answer _’of course’_. And it did fit, a fancy high rise apartment building was the perfect place for a cat like him. Or maybe an old ritzy family estate with wrought-iron bars and acres of manicured lawns for him to prowl. “Let me guess, you needed someone to open the door for you?”

There was an odd huff from the cat as he narrowed his eyes, but still slipped inside into the marbled antechamber when you opened the door. You were too afraid to step inside in case a door man or security did appear, but you did take a moment to gap at the rich interior. Dark, beautifully polished wood showcased the marble stairs that led upwards, while shining brass mailboxes framed the open antechamber leading to the stairs, all lit with a dazzling crystal chandelier. It was quite possibly the ritziest place you had ever seen, and a far cry from the boarding house where you were living. 

The cat had none of your hesitation, walking across the gleaming floor and bounding up the stairs about halfway before pausing. He turned to give you the same expectant look as earlier. “Oh no, there’s no way I’m coming in there, Mr. Cat,” you called quietly from the doorway. 

He tilted his head at your answer before his ears flicked back and he gave a loud strangled yowl. “Okay, okay!” You quickly stepped inside, the door closing silently behind you. He seemed pleased, no longer yowling but he continued to wait for you on the marble staircase. “Goodness you’re a strange cat,” you muttered, almost afraid to break the solemn silence as you tipped-toed across the room and creeped up the stairs. You really, really shouldn’t be doing this. You didn’t belong here at all.

But oh, it was beautiful. The rich decor only continued with beautiful artwork hung on the halls, the windows of the landings each having stained-glass. Once he reached the third floor, Mr. Cat sauntered down the carpeted hall, and you followed with only a moment of hesitation until he paused next to a simple dark door with bronze numbering, his golden eyes looking up at you expectantly. You gave him a glare as you realized what he was asking. Of course. That’s why he wanted you to follow him in.

You still hesitated, heart pounding before using the shiny brass knocker to knock lightly. “I wonder how many people you’ve coerced into this,” you asked the cat before the door opened.

Oh.

The gentlemen from the week before--Mr. Graves, if you remembered right--opened the door, his expression mirroring your own surprise before the cat announced his presence with a light chirp, rubbing against his leg as he slipped into the apartment.

“I-I’m awfully sorry, sir,” you apologized once Mr. Graves’s attention returned to you. “Your cat...I know it sounds rather silly but he...kinda...led me here.”

The suspicion left his eyes as he groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did. I’m sorry about that, miss. Nahuel...has a mind of his own” He gave a small polite smile. “Thank you.”

You smiled in returned and nodded your head, thankful he wasn’t upset, but also a little curious. How many times had Nahuel persuaded random strangers to help him home? But you waved the thought away as he closed the door, and you took your leave. 

Surely it was a once in lifetime occurrence. After all, New York was huge with hundreds of thousands of people. It was likely you would never see him or the cat again.

Right?


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited: 2/24/18

“I need help, hire Credence.”

McNally looked up from his paperwork, the smoke from his cigar filling the small office. The balding man gave you a dark look as he talked around the cigar. “You do not need help. All you’ve been doing is slacking off and letting the boy do your work.”

You took some offense to that. You had not been slacking off, but with Credence’s help with keeping the floor stocked and tidy while you handled the customers and the cash register, you hadn’t been nearly as busy as you had been before. For which, you were very grateful to Credence for, and you could see that it was helping his tiny ego and broken self esteem. You could catch a smile out of him when you thanked him, or when the regulars would greet him with a smile. The only downside was Credence continued to deny your attempts to pay him, barely touched the money you put away for him and Modesty to use. Guilt started to nag at you, and you had this dreadful feeling that you were taking the boy for granted.

If he was going to help, he should recognized as an official employee. So, despite the flutter of nerves, you stayed in doorway of the cramped little office and crossed your arms defiantly. You were doing this for Credence, so you had to stand your ground. “Exactly. And he needs paid for it. Hire him.”

McNally snorted as he leaned back in his chair, unamused but not dismissing your argument. Or so you hoped. McNally was rather gruff, never afraid to speak his mind. Surely if he had his mind set, he wouldn’t hesitate to say so. “Do I look like I’m made out of money, woman?”

You couldn’t help your short reply: “No, you look like your made out of tobacco and lard.” Now there was an amused look on his face despite the attempt to keep his scowl. The look fueled you with hope that you could convince him to hire Credence despite his resistance. “Cut my pay and give him half.”

He rolled his eyes, his amusement falling. “I ain’t cutting your pay in half to pay for a worker I don't need.”

You bit your lip, bouncing slightly in your heels as you thought. You had an idea, though it was rather daring. But hell, it would be worth it. Credence deserved this. “Fine. I quit. Hire him.”

His cigar about fell out of his mouth as he stared at you in shock. “What-what in blue blazes is wrong with you, woman?!” he snarled as he ripped the cigar from his mouth, depositing the ashes in a simple ashtray. and you could see his mind working as he glared at you for a long moment before sighing. “Fine, I’ll pay him a quarter of your wages and he’s part time. No more than twenty hours a week.”

You grinned despite the scowl on his face. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but you weren’t going to push your luck anymore than you already had. “Thank you, sir! You won’t regret it!”

“I ALREADY AM,” he shouted after you as you turned and left the office. You could still hear him grumbling to himself, but you didn’t let it bother you as you all but skipped to where Credence stood nervously out of sight but well within hearing range. The look on his face was a mix of confusion, wonder, and maybe even a little awe. 

“See, easy as that,” you assured him, still grinning from your victory. “Now you have a legit part time job.”

The look fell from his face, replaced with guilt as he shook his head slightly, hat gripped tightly in his hands. “Ma’am, I-I don’t mind helping out. I don’t need paid for it, especially if he’s going to be mad at you.”

You placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You deserve it, Credence. Hell, you do more than me when you’re here.” You caught his shy glance and gave a reassuring smile. “McNally may act mad but he isn’t, not really. If he was, he would have been throwing cuss words and accepted my resignation. Okay? So don’t worry about it.”

Credence merely shook his head again as you led him through the small shop, giving a more in-depth explanation on how things worked. Granted he had picked up on most of it without any real orientation, but you enjoyed seeing that sharp glint in his eye as he processed your words, filing them away in his mind.

McNally called him slow and dim witted, but he was wrong. He had just never given the boy a chance. Credence was sharp, far sharper than he let on. He just wasn’t confident enough to say anything.

***

When Credence stepped into the Barebone’s home late that night, there was a slight smile on his face. To have someone fuss over him, being bossy but not in the way his Ma was...it was nice. Chastity had been like that a long time ago, back when they were younger. He had forgotten how much he had missed the feeling.

Except the warm feeling didn’t last long as soon as he noticed the tight expression on his Ma’s face as she waited for him on the stairs, or the stiff posture of Chastity as she sat at the table. Chastity refused to look at him, but Mary Lou’s gaze pierced right through him.

“Chastity gave me some interesting news today,” Mary Lou started out neutral, as if she wasn’t furious about something. Credence backpedaled in his mind as he desperately tried to think of anything that would garner that reaction from their Ma. Anything besides what he dreaded: that his visits to the small corner store had been discovered. “But first, I want to know if you have anything to tell me? Like where you were this afternoon.”

Credence fidgeted where he stood, “I was just out handing out leaflets. Looking for a place for Sunday.” 

Mary Lou’s expression only grew darker as she stood and stepped close to him. “Are you really going to lie to my face?”

“I-I ain’t,” he started, only to be cut short as Mary Lou’s hand suddenly slapped him across the face. It took every instinct and all his focus on the sudden boiling darkness that flared through his veins. The pressing urge to protect himself, to lash out. 

“Don’t you dare lie to me,” Mary Lou hissed. “And don’t you dare call your sister a liar. She saw you today at that corner store with some floozy of a woman. You’re as wicked as your father.”

Credence’s eyes widened, his fists clenching as the darkness continued to boil, struggling for release. He held onto it with all he could, barely able to string a thought together to answer her. “She ain’t...We’re not…”

“What have I told you about lying?” she interrupted sharply. “But what can I expect considering your heritage?” 

She held out her hand expectantly with a silent command. He hesitated for a moment, wanting to argue despite his better judgement because it wasn’t anything like what she implied. You weren’t a-a floozy, or anything like that.You were honest, caring despite your bossy tendencies. You were a hundred time better than that. Than them. 

The idea struck a chord in him as he raised his eyes, glancing towards his older sister, who continued to sit silently at the table with her hands clasped tightly together and eyes resolutely staring at the wall across from her. He had known that she was trying to ‘grow up’, to be more mature and saintly like their mother. But never had he thought that she would betray him like this.

Yet, you had threatened to quit her job today, which you needed, just so he would get paid for what he offered to do for free. Because you cared for him. Because you wanted him to be happy.

“Belt. Now.” Mary Lou snapped, bringing his attention back to her while the rage inside him flared. It would be so easy to let it go, to let the darkness win and to lash out. But a glance upwards revealed Modesty watching by the rail, the doll you gave her clenched tightly to her chest. He held the darkness back as it howled inside, roaring like the pounding in his ears.

He didn’t deserve this.

He never did.

But he had no other choice.

He submitted himself to his fate as he mechanically went through the motion of removing his belt and handing it to her before following her up the stairs, past the silent but watching Modesty. He couldn’t meet her wide grey eyes as they passed, but could feel her eyes follow his back until the door closed between them. 

The lashes felt sharper than usual as the belt struck the bare skin of his back. He could feel the tell-tale sting of the belt opening blisters on his skin; the sticky feeling of blood smearing with each strike. He counted the sixty-six strikes in his mind; one for each book in the bible. And by the last one, his breathing was ragged and his frame shaking, but no other sounds had escaped despite the raging in his mind. He didn’t dare look up as Mary Lou folded his belt and left it on the small bed. He didn’t dare move until the door clicked shut behind her. 

For a long moment, he continued his kneeling position at the side of the bed, fists shaking as he struggled to breathe. Usually this was when the darkness faded, when he could subdue the demon within and force it back into its corner. Except it was still screaming for release, fueled by rage. It was tired of this, tired of being whipped for no reason.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t contain the demon anymore.

For the first time, it was Credence who submitted. 

*** 

This was hell.

Graves surveyed the damaged no-maj buildings while his Aurors scoured the streets for a possible cause. He could feel the magic lingering in the air, the darkness of it turning his stomach and making the hairs of his neck stiffen. There was no doubt in his mind dark magic did this. Powerful Dark magic.

But who? And why? The idiots that were emboldened by Grindelwald’s movement in Europe and stupid enough to attack in the middle of New York were usually stupid enough to make a stand. They also tended to leave a trail of bodies in their wake. 

But while every car, every streetlamp, every building had been decimated into unrecognizable ruins, there hadn’t been a single casualty. Just a few scrapes and bruises mainly caused from flying debris. 

Then there was the no-majs that had seen it. Even in there befuddled confused state, they all claimed the same thing. A black wind, a cloud of darkness that tore through with an unearthly cry leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. 

Obliviating the no-majs and repairing infrastructure was going to be the easy part. Typical routine for his Aurors. The challenge would be reassuring the magical community everything was fine when obviously it was not. While hunting unknown dark entities was part of the reasons Auror and the Magical security department existed, something in his chest told him this wasn’t going to be a simple case by any means. After all, it had to be related to the sudden spike in the exposure risk.

Now it was a race to catch it before it completely exposed the magical community.

***

A yowl pierced the night time, waking you with a jolt. _Surely,_ you thought as you rubbed your eyes with a groan, _surely that was just some stray cat and not…._

There was another long, familiar, cry that urged you out of bed. As soon as you turned on the dim lamp by your bed, you could see a very familiar cat sitting on the fire escape outside your window, green-gold eyes flickering in the light. “You have got to be kidding me,” you growled, rubbing at your eyes. It had been two weeks since Mr. Cat, or Nahuel as Graves called him, had led you to his owner’s home. Two weeks equated to six times the cat appeared out of nowhere, yowling until you walked him home. Six times you nervously knocked on Graves door, because as nice as he had been so far about the odd visits, you were worried each time that he would be as annoyed with you as you were growing to feel towards his cat. 

There was a third yowl accompanied by a scratch at the window glass as if the cat was growing impatient. You stormed out of bed and marched over to the window and opened it, glaring at the unblinking cat. “Nahuel! It’s the middle of the night. It ain’t decent for a young woman to be out by herself, and I for sure ain’t gonna wake up Mr. Graves at two in the morning!”

The tawny cat blinked before letting out another strangled yowl, loud enough to probably wake most of the block, let alone the boarding house. You winced at the loud wail before you shook a finger at the cat with a hissed. “I said no and I mean it! I ain’t gonna be bossed around by no furball!”

Another yowl pierced the night, and this time there was a bang at your door to answer his cry. Mrs. Shapiro’s sharp voice screeching your name: “I’ve told you before! No pets!” she yelled through the door as she continued to hammer at your door. “Get rid of that damn cat!”

“He isn’t mine! He belongs to a friend!” you defended before you turned back to the cat with another hiss. “Go. Home. Nahuel.”

There was a glare in his his eyes before he yowled again, earning a screech from Mrs. Shapiro and complaints from the other girls. “If you don’t shut that cat up, I will!” the small woman threatened, and not for the first time. You groaned, there was no way you were going to explain to Mr. Graves your landlady had killed his cat because it was being annoying.

“Fine! I give up! I’m going! I’m coming,” you hissed at the cat, worked into a state as you grabbed the easiest dress to don and changed quickly. You didn’t bother with shoes or a coat, not knowing when Nahuel would break his silence and start crying again. There was a definite pleased air about the cat as you climbed out onto the fire escape, taking the stairs as he quickly jumped down the metal staircase. 

Damn cat. 

\---

Oddly enough, Mr. Graves looked wide awake as he opened the door less than an hour later; the confusion and maybe slight annoyance on his expression evaporating shortly after saw you. Replaced with concern a a faint hint of amusement. Because as if hadn’t been if bad enough being woke in the middle of the night for a stroll, the skies had decided to try and cheer you up by putting on a rather stunning thunderstorm that you would have loved to watch...had you not been out in the middle of it. 

As he took in your soaked appearance along with the drenched housecat, you couldn't help but take note of his. He was still dressed in his sleek black pants and crisp white shirt, his tie halfway undone andand his sleeves pushed up around his forearms. There were notable dark circles beneath his eyes to match the tension in shoulders and jaw, making you wonder if he himself just got home. 

You could almost see the stress leave his body as he leaned against the doorframe, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. The image made your stomach and heart twist, you could almost forgave Nahuel for the midnight walk. Almost.

“Next time Mrs. Shapiro threatens to shoot him, I may let her,” you answered testily as the soaked cat in-question slinked into the apartment, brushing his wet fur against’s Grave’s pant leg. You could feel the warmth radiating from the open door, subtly piercing the bone-chilling cold that enveloped you, causing you to be envious of the tawny cat and dreading the cold wet walk home even more. 

Graves raised an eyebrow at that, his lip twitching even more into a smile. Things between you had progressed from the simple, ‘sorry about Nahuel, thank you for your patience miss,’ to sometimes short conversations that allowed you to gather tidbits of information about him: like a law-enforcement job where he was obviously high-ranking, as well as an obvious lack of a social life; yet at the same time also made him even more mysterious and admittingly enticing.

So, you may have this little crush on the man, or maybe it was more of a star-struck awe that you knew such a person. 

“Where’s your coat?” he asked, breaking you out of your thoughts, making you blush faintly. 

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t very cold when I left. Or raining for that matter.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and regretting it as more cold drops fell from your hair onto your bare neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “Speaking of which, I really should head back. Hopefully I can dry off before work.” Which was unlikely, considering your small room wasn’t the warmest place in the world. Pair that with the knowledge you weren’t going to be able to catch any more sleep, and you knew you had a long, miserable day ahead of you. 

“I’m sorry,” Graves answered, though he didn’t look completely apologetic with a slight smile still twitching at his lips. Too tired and grouchy to be as respectful as you usually were, you gave him a faint glare. Oddly it seemed to amuse him more before he held up a finger. “Here, give me a moment.”

Confused, you waited as he closed the door for a brief moment, missing the warmth until the door opened again as reappeared donned in his long black coat with an umbrella in hand and an extra black coat. 

“I couldn’t possibly…” you tried to protest rather weakly before he artfully threw the extra coat over your shoulders. You instantly sunk into the soft velvet liner, eyes fluttering close as you pulled it tightly around you, the warmth radiating quickly into your cold bones. “Oh, that feels heavenly.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Mr. Graves spoke, drawing you out of the momentarily bliss. You opened your eyes to find that he was close enough to touch, to smell the lingering cologne that made your stomach twist some more. “Especially after everything Nahuel’s put you through.”

“It’s not that much of a trouble,” you assured quietly despite your earlier feelings. He seemed to see right through the white lie and raised a brow, making you blush even more. “It’s not that bad, I really don’t mind the walk...except when it’s in the middle of the night…” you amended slightly with a pause as he turned to lead you towards the staircase. A brief errant thought crossed your mind as you wished he hadn’t donned that long coat, making you chastise yourself as you hurried to catch up. “And in the rain.”

“I really don’t know what’s he’s thinking,” Graves continued as you followed him down the stairs. “Usually he prefers to hiss at people, not bring them home.”

“Well, the cats I had back home always seemed to have a mind of their own. Granted, they were barn cats…” you trailed off as you reached the lobby before taking a breath. “You know you don’t need to walk with me, Mr. Graves. I mean, I walked here just fine. I swear I’ll bring back your coat, even if Nahuel decides he’s done pestering me.”

He only gave you a look before opening the black umbrella. “I would be a poor excuse of a gentlemen if I didn’t walk you home, miss…?”

You flushed as you offered your name, tucking a wet strand behind your ear. When he repeated it back with a faint smile, your name easily rolling off his tongue, you were sure you were going to melt into the floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Graves,” you stated shyly he offered his arm to you. As if you really were some fancy lady and not...you. Still, you accepted the offer despite the pounding in your chest.

“Please, call me Percival,” he answered as he easily flicked the umbrella open with one hand, protecting both of you from the rain as you stepped out into the cold drizzle 

“So, Percival,” you started, feeling that nervous tick of rambling trying to set in as you matched his leisurely pace. Unlike yourself, he seemed completely relaxed. As if walking a virtual stranger home at three in the morning was an everyday occurrence. “You seem awfully awake for it being three in the morning.”

There was a faint snort as he glanced down towards you. The humor in his face seemed dry, matching his answer. “Unfortunately. There’s no rest for the wicked, or those who hunt them.”


	5. Five

The rain had stayed throughout the morning, washing the smoke and pollution from the sky. The dreary and slow day did not help you feel any less exhausted, the exact opposite in fact. The long lull between customers also left you time to mull over your early wake up call, cursing Nahuel until your mind travelled to his owner. 

Percival Graves. 

Those few meetings when you barely spoke more than a few words, he had seemed polite but distant, with more patience that a saint towards that cat of his. Which explained how he could walk you home that first night, enduring in silence while you had talked incessantly the whole way. 

You would admit to at least yourself that you were more than a little attracted to him, and after that third visit from Nahuel, you had looked forward to it despite being equally flustered. But what sane girl wouldn’t? Sure he was a good few years older than you, but that only added to the appeal. Along that damn little smirk he wore when he was amused by whatever you were nervously chattering about before you could build up the nerve to excuse yourself.

But this morning, it was easy to see how tense he had been despite being exhausted. His slight tease made you certain he was some lawman, but he obviously didn’t want to share so you didn’t push. Instead you refrained to a simple chatter, which oddly seemed to help him relax along the way. You were beginning to feel comfortable as well by the time you reached Mrs. Shapiro’s. There was still a nervous undercurrent humming through your veins, but you could ignore and enjoy his company. You were a little disappointed when you reached the stairs leading to the door, your mind trying desperately to find a way to stall without being obvious. But then he took your hand in his with a tired smile and pressed a light kiss to your knuckles as he bid you goodnight. Or rather, a good day. 

Your face was warm at the memory. It was an old fashioned gesture, but then again, you were raised in a different world were gentlemanly acts ran more along the lines of ‘hey, I got ya a few wildflowers that ain't from your own field.’ Surely the kiss was meant as an innocent gesture, with no underlying or secret meaning. 

It had to be, right? There was no way a man like him would be interested in a silly girl like yourself. That only happened in romance novels and fairy tales, not real life.

A crack of sharp thunder yanked you violently out of your thoughts. The rain was pouring down, making everyone rush for cover. Except for one lean older-teen in black standing on the street corner, not even trying to offer the ruined papers in his hand. Your flustered thoughts quickly morphed into a maternal panic as you quickly left your post. 

“Hey, boyo!” you called out as you opened the store door against the driving rains. He didn’t move, still standing lifelessly on the corner. “Credence, get in here!” you yelled as loud as you could. There was an automatic flinch making you wince yourself as he turned towards you. You offered a smile as you waved your hand, gesturing to come in. There was a definite moment of hesitation before he slinked towards you. Oddly, as well as thankfully, Modesty wasn’t anywhere in sight. “You silly boy, you're gonna catch a cold,” you tried to chide in a warm tone to ease the tension in his curved shoulders as he passed you and entered the store. 

He refused to look up, keeping his head down as he mumbled something too quiet for you to hear. You sighed and patted him on the arm, feeling even worse as her jerked his arm away. Nothing about this day was going well. 

“It’s okay, honey. You make yourself at home and I’ll go fix us a couple of hot drinks. Okay?” All you got was a stiff nod, which resulted in another internal sigh as you headed into the backroom. You tried to encourage yourself and mentally prepare for a difficult conversation as you prepared some hot chocolate on the stove.

When you came back a few minutes later, Credence was still standing in the doorway, a puddle of rainwater gathering around his feet as he anxiously fiddling with his hat. You put your best attempted at a smile as you offered the mug of cocoa. Except your smile died as you caught sight of the purple and blue mark on his cheek. He flinched and pulled back as you instinctively reached towards the bruise. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he answered quietly but quickly. “It’s nothing.”

You paused before taking his hand softly, doing your best not to spook him as you led him to one of the booths set against the far wall, setting down the drinks on the hardwood top. Instead of taking the seat across from him, you settled in the bench seat next to him. “Credence, I’m your friend.” You didn’t miss the way he tensed, or the brief, wary glance towards you. You offered a smile as you took his hand once more, twining your fingers with him in an attempt to dispel his fear. “We’re friends. And as friends, we help one another.”

He tensed at that, his hand limp in yours as his gaze fell to the tabletop. “What do you need help with?” His quiet whisper about broke your heart. He sounded so resigned, almost apathetic. You tightened your grip on his, trying to pour your worry, your concern for him into the simple gesture. Anything to make him realize you weren’t like that. You weren’t like anyone who had hurt him in the past. 

“Sweetie, I meant that if _you_ need help, you just need to tell me. I will do my absolute best to help, no matter what. _I’m_ here for _you._ ”

He didn’t look up but you could see his shoulders tense even further, his slack grip becoming like a vice. His face scrunched up, trying to hold back tears and failing. It felt like hell to untangle your hand from his, earning an absolutely wounded expression before you wrapped your arms tightly around his him before pulling him close to your chest, resting your chin on his damp hair. He quickly gave into the motion, his hands gripping at the fabric at your waist as his body trembled as he tried and failed to hold back his sobs. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe, though if anything the words of reassurement only made him cry harder. Still, you kept whispering softly to him, rubbing circles along his back as you gently rocked back and forth. Anything to give him some kind of comfort. Some kind of reassurance he desperately needed. 

You knew you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, that you should wait until he could find the strength to explain what happened. But since you already knew his mother was a harsh woman made you automatically label her as the culprit. How a woman could be so unkind towards her own children was unfathomable to you. Even with hints that both Credence and Modesty were both adopted, you could hardly stomach the idea. To willingly bring a child into your home and then treat them in such a way that whenever Credence or Modesty dared to say anything out of turn usually brought such a panicked look to their fact that floored you each and every time. 

You knew Credence feared his mother, and you couldn’t see him doing something to earn a mark like that. Not that anything deserved such a punishment. He was one of the sweetest, kindest people you had ever met. He never said no, or even ask why when you asked him to do something. His eyes always brightened at the smallest of compliments, and he was usually eager to please. He wasn’t a hellion as you had been, admittingly deserving of every bit of punishment your parents had dealt. 

Forget dislike, you were pretty sure you hated Mrs. Barebones. 

Well after several minutes, Credence calmed enough his breathing was steady, but he still seemed reluctant as he pulled away from you. Still, his hand found yours and you were quick to twine your fingers with his again. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, and he predictably shook his head. You wanted to pry, to find out if your assumptions were right. But you knew from experience, that do the opposite of what you wanted. You took a steadying breath yourself. “You wanna stay here with me for a while? It’s been so boring today I’ve almost nodded off a few times.”

There was a ghost of a smile on his face as he met your eyes, nodding slightly. “I’d...I’d like that.” 

***

It was a few days later when Nahuel found you once more. However, this time it was at the corner outside of McNally’s after twilight. You were too tired to protest, and instead followed him silently along the sidewalks, wondering to yourself not for the first time how smart the cat was as he paused for traffic, a keen eye following the automobiles until he deemed it safe to cross. Or maybe you were just too tired and the stress of the week was wearing on you. Heck, the stress of everything since you moved to New York was probably enough to make anyone go crazy.

Oddly, there was a serious expression on Graves’ face as he opened the door and recognized you. Nothing like the faint smiles you had become accustomed too. You didn’t even had time for a ‘hi’ before he demanded: “How do you you know Credence Barebone?” Paired with the severe expression on his face and the cold glint in his dark eyes, you felt an unpleasant knot form in your stomach. Something was different today. Something was wrong.

“He and his sister hand out flyers by my shop,” you answered defensively, crossing your arms defiantly and refusing to show the fear bubbling in your gut. “Why? How do you know him? Why do you care?”

He shook his head as he stalked towards you, far too reminiscent of his cat for your liking, and far more predatory. A part of your mind was shouting warnings at you as you backpedaled for every step he took until he had you pinned up against the wall. One of his hands planted itself on the wall beside your head, supporting him as he leaned in close. You weren't sure if you were more flustered or fearful as you continued to defiantly hold his sharp gaze. Belatedly, you realized this wasn’t the friendly Percival you knew. This was the lawman that you had rightly suspected him to be, and this was an interrogation.

“Are you a part of the Second Salemers?” he demanded, searching your eyes for the slightest tell of a lie. 

“No, I’m not,” you answered, not looking away from the piercing gaze. You would've thought he was looking right into your soul, searching for answers himself. If you believed in such things. But you didn’t shy away, and instead tried to stand a little taller, letting your flickering anger replace the fear. “I think what they’re preaching is a bunch of superstitious hogwash. But I feel sorry for him and his sister so I do what I can to make their lives a little better. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that and I ain't got nothing to hide.”

He searched your face a moment longer before sighing, his whole body relaxing. The chill in the air evaporated as his breath ghosted over you, and there was a new kind of emotion twisting not in your stomach as his harsh facade fell away and he slumped a little closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he apologized after a moment. When he met your eyes again, it wasn’t nearly as intimidating. If anything, there was almost a vulnerable expression that had crossed his face. “It’s just...those people are dangerous and the boy….”

“There’s nothing dangerous about Credence,” you defended hotly as he trailed off. “He’s a strange boy, but there isn’t a single mean bone his body.”

A very faint smile reached his lips, his eyes warming slightly. Fondly. “No, there isn’t, is there?”

“So why the interrogation?” You asked, trying to keep your mind on that and not how close he still was, not even a foot between you. How close those lips of his were to your own. “How do you know Credence?”

The warmth in his eyes dimmed just a little. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he withdrew. Part of you missed the closeness while the rest of you felt a little relieved. Too much. Too much intensity, too much...everything with this man. “I can’t say. Sorry.”

“Mr. Graves…” you started as he turned and walked back, only to have him shake his head when he paused to glance back at you. You sighed, unwilling to break the silent truce not to press him for answers. Instead, you gave him an exasperated look with a faint smile. “You’re becoming quite the enigma, Percival Graves.”

His lips quirked back into his little smirk, making your stomach erupt with butterflies. “That’s part of the charm, isn’t it?” he ended, letting your name roll off his tongue which made you flush. You would never forget the glint in his eye as he closed the door.

You felt your heart pounding as you walked down the stairs in a daze.

Did he....

No, surely not.

But that seemed a bit flirty....

It was probably him just apologizing in his own way.

But….

You shook your head, clearing your thoughts and silencing your internal argument. More than likely that was nothing and you were just trying to imply what you wanted. Yes. That had to be it. After all, why would he ever be interested in a girl like you?

***

Graves watched from the window as you slipped into the night, able to keep an eye on you until you turned the corner. He sighed, rubbing his face as he turned away looked over where Nahuel was grooming himself on top of one of the bookcases. “I don’t know why you keep leading her here, but it has to stop.”

The half-wampus paused, his golden eyes looking down at the wizard as he silently baulked at the idea. “I’m serious, Nahuel,” he continued sternly, knowing the creature was intelligent enough to understand. “She’s a no-maj, you know what that means. One of these days, she’ll figure out the truth, and I’ll have to obliviate her. It would be better for her if I didn’t have to do that.”

Nahuel’s tail thumped loudly against the bookcase, easily spotting the half-truth and calling the wizard out on it. One Obliviate wouldn’t hurt you...but it would him. He had grown accustomed to seeing you throughout the week, and even looked forward to the small stolen moments. His kind gave him respect with a good dose of fear, and he was fine with that. Wanted it, even. But it was a nice change to have someone close that didn’t simply see him as Director of Magical Security. To have someone smile as soon as they saw him, and not have a flash of fear or panic.

He didn’t want to lose that.

He...didn’t want to lose you. 

He liked it when Nahuel deemed that he needed a break and led you to him. When he was so wrapped up in the work he brought home and didn’t even realize it until there was that now-familiar knock at the door. It was like a breath of fresh air every time he saw your face, to the point of whenever he felt stressed and overwhelmed there was a powerful urge to see you. 

Which was why he had found the small corner store, only to see you with Credence wrapped in your arms. And that had hurt more than he cared to admit, even to himself. After all, Credence was closer to your age than he was. Far less mysterious, and far more available.

He had to keep reminding himself that he shouldn’t want you in the first place. You were a _no-maj_. There shouldn’t be anymore than a simple acquaintance between the two of you. But, there was also no denying that he thought of you as a friend; that part of him wanted you more than just a friend. Part of him yearned to see your smile, to listen to you chatter on, or hear your bright laugh that seemed to make even time stop for a few moments. That deep, basic part of him was drawn to you like the proverbial moth to a flame.

And that fire that had shone in your eyes today, showing a side to you he hadn’t seen before. You were so boldly protective of the boy, which was something Credence desperately needed. Credence needed someone to be there for him, someone his side that wouldn’t defer to that thrice-damned Scourer that he called mother. 

Because, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited 2/24/18

You felt incredibly self-conscious as you pulled your coat a little tighter around your body when Graves opened the door and gave you long look. It was bad enough walking around New York all dressed up, especially with the hem of your dress actually shorter than your coat. Then Nahuel somehow managed to find you enroute to your new job, and things went from kinda-awkward to wishing-you-could-disappear awkward. “Ehehe, hi.”

“Date night?” he asked rather politely after a moment, and you were fairly sure you imagined the flash of...something on his face. If there had been, it was gone before you could even guess what it could be. Though a quiet voice in the back of your mind helpfully offered a few ideas that you quickly squelched. 

“What? Oh, no. No no no.” You hesitated,face aflame before ultimately deciding to undo the buttons of the coat and reveal the slinky knee-length dress that almost glittered in the light. “I, uh, I got the part time gig at the 90th ave. club. Back up singer with some waitressing,” you admitted nervously, not able to look up as you brushed imaginary dust off the beads that tickled your bare legs. “Nahuel caught me on the way there.” 

The cat, which had been watching you two with a glint in his eye, sniffed slightly before he brushed past Graves, completely unnoticed. His master shifted slightly, drawing your gaze up as he leaned against the doorpost. There a slight smile on his face, which did absolutely nothing good for your blush, or your heart for that matter. Not when his gaze were taking its time traveling down your body. Which also gave you an opportunity to study him, leading you to decide that it should be completely illegal for someone to look that good. Slicked back hair, pressed white shirt that was slightly unbuttoned and sleeves pushed up past the elbows, and black slacks that showcased his long legs. 

“Well, you look beautiful,” he finally stated, making your eyes jump back up to his. The wicked little smirk on his lips confirmed he knew exactly what you had been doing.

You glanced away, embarrassed at being caught.

But, to be fair, he had oogled you first.

Oh Lord. 

“I, ah, th-thank you,” you stuttered, sure your face was as red as a tomato based on how hot you felt. “You too....! I-I mean, uh, well, um, shit.”

There was a warm, rich laughter that filled the hallway and made your stomach flutter. You had heard him chuckle before, but never a full laugh like that. Your mind blanked for a moment as you stared again, transfixed by how much his face changed with a wide smile on it. “Would you like an escort, my lady?” he asked after a moment, a warm smile still on his lips. 

“I, uh, I can handle it,” you stuttered out nervously. “You don’t need to keep inconveniencing yourself on my behalf, Mr. Graves. Not-not that I mind! I enjoy your company, I really do! I just hate to be a nuisance when you’ve been nothing but kind to me…” you trailed off weakly as he pushed off the doorpost and stalked towards you, reminding you once more oversized cat. Dangerous but beautiful. And for the second time you were backed up against the wall, with Percival Graves far too close for comfort. Except instead of fear, a new, far more pleasant emotion formed in the pit of your stomach. 

“M-Mr. Graves….”

“Percival,” he all but purred, leaning against the wall and pinning you once more. Not that you minded in the least bit, this time. 

“Percival,” you corrected yourself a little ashamed over how breathless you sounded. How breathless you felt. But he was so close, your heart was pounding so hard you almost believed he could hear it.

“Now, miss,” he continued, your name rolling languidly off his tongue, “I asked if you _wanted_ company. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

“W-well, if you want too.”

“Do you want me too?” he insisted again rather huskily. By now, he was closer than when he interrogated you over Credence. His arm braced on either side of you, his nose nearly brushing yours.

Close enough to kiss.

Was he going to?

Did you want him too?

Ok, that was obviously a stupid question. You unconsciously licked your lips, all to aware of his gaze following your tongue as he mimicked it. You had completely forgotten his question; and had your mind worked, you would’ve guessed he had forgotten as well. His nose brushed against yours, one hand coming up to brush your cheek tenderly. Your eyes fluttered close as his breath ghosted over your lips. 

A shrill alarm broke through the tense silence, followed quickly by a curse from Percival. You were both stunned and lost as he withdrew, blinking rapidly as your mind tried to process what was going on. Or rather, what wasn’t.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but duty calls.” He pressed a quick kiss to your knuckles before he disappeared back into his apartment.

What….

What just happened? 

You stood there, dazed and confused for a long moment as your mind tried gather itself. You were...you were just about to kiss Mr. Graves. Percival.

Actually, it was more like he had been about to kiss you. And you had a feeling it wasn’t going to end with a single chaste peck on the lips.

You really should’ve worn a dress like….

Your mind caught up in that moment, and you panicked for a new reason as you raced down the hall. What kind of impression did being late on the first day leave?

***

The next morning you woke to a warm body curled alongside yours.

A warm, furry, and purring one. 

You pulled back your blanket, not that surprised to see a tawny ball of fur pressed against your stomach. A golden eye lazily opened, blinking slightly before Nahuel shifted slightly and fell back asleep. 

“How in the world…” you trailed off, staring dumbfoundedly at the cat. “You need me to open doors for you, yet I’m pretty sure no one let you in here.” The only answer you got was a slight flick of his ear, making you sigh and give into the urge of scratching the fur between his ears. “You are one strange cat.” 

You glanced over at the clock on your nightstand; nine in the morning, and thankfully your day off. Even better, the other girls apparently had respected your request not to be woken. Your gig at the club had lasted until one, and you had finally crawled into bed sometime after three in the morning. 

It was hard to miss the off-white envelope leaning against your alarm clock, your name written on the paper in perfect penmanship. Nahuel barely budged as you reached for the letter and carefully opened it, pulling out a simple white card that had the same perfect penmanship written in dark ink. 

_There’s a development that requires my attention. I’m afraid I’ll be gone for a few days. Don’t worry about Nahuel, he can take care of himself._

_I look forward to seeing you again._

_~P.G._

You felt flush as you read and then re-read the simple note, especially as your mind recalled the husky quality to his voice when you re-read the last sentence. This could turn out to be much more than you anticipated. More than you could have even dared to wish for. 

Nahuel complained as you suddenly sat up, giving you a dark look as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. It was suddenly far too warm beneath the blankets, especially with the warm furnace that was Nahuel.

When you had announced your plans to move from your small town to New York, your family and friends accused you of having a silly dream like this. A dream of meeting some ritzy man that would sweep you off your feet and falling head-over-heels in love with you. Of finding a life of decadence and glamour to leave your meager beginnings in the dust. 

You, of course, didn’t have such expectations when you moved. You had just wanted a more interesting life than a small town could offer. If anything, you assumed you meet an average Joe that was more tolerable than the uneducated boys back home, and between the two of you make a decent life. Anything as long as you didn’t become a boring housewife like your sisters and friends. 

But here you were, in a quasi-friendship with a quickly developing romantic twinge with one hell of a handsome, if intensely mysterious, man. Who also had one very odd cat. 

Speaking of which, you noticed the edge of the note had a small, semi-circular indent rather reminiscent of a cat bite. You looked back to the tawny cat, who had claimed your pillow as the proper place to give himself a bath. “I suppose you delivered this,” you joked, though only partially. Logic dictated that it was probably one of the girls that snuck into your room and left it. Except, you were a rather light sleeper, and you would have woken to the groan and creak of the old door opening. 

Nahuel paused, shooting you a defensive look before he resumed grooming his back. You chuckled as you gave into the temptation of running your hand through the thick fur, which he leaned up into, and followed your hand back to your lap, demanding more. “You are a very odd cat indeed. And as much as I care for you, Mrs. Shapiro will kill both of us if she sees you.”

Nahuel gave a small chirp in return as he stretched out on your lap about as nonchalant as he could be. “Fine, but if you get caught, don’t say I didn’t tell you.” Maybe you should be worried you were so used to talking to the cat as if he could understand you...but honestly, you almost believed he could. He certainly acted as if he did.

When you finally pushed him away, he complained briefly before deciding to just ignore you while you dressed. McNally agreed for you to come in late, or as he put it: ‘whenever you get your lazy bones out of bed.’ And while you could probably slack off for at least another hour, you didn’t want to push it. 

Except when you finally did leave the boarding house, absolutely certain that the cat had been lounging on your pillow, you found Nahuel waiting on the street corner. If that didn’t surprise you enough, he more-or-less led you to working, making you hope McNally was more accepting of the feline than Shapiro.

But still, it seemed rather odd of him...or maybe he was use to spending the day with Graves and felt rather lonely. You still found it odd that he knew exactly where the corner store was, and showed no hesitation in finding a spot in the shelves behind the counter to lounge and watch as people came and went during the afternoon.

McNally blinked at the cat, gave you a look, then retreated to his office grumbling under his breath. However, the customers seemed to enjoy his presence as they ooh and awwed over him. 

“Ma’am? Is that your cat?”

You finished ringing-up a customer before looking up at Credence, whose focus was on said cat behind you. Which, of course. What other cat was there? Still, you looked up at Nahuel, whose eyes were just barely open as you answered. “Not exactly. He belongs to a friend. But I’m looking after him. Or maybe he’s looking after me.”

Nahuel chirped lightly, apparently finding the last one more accurate. He jumped down from his shelf for the first time that day and onto the counter, spooking Credence slightly-more out of the sudden movement than anything. You were rather surprised when Credence barely hesitated before reaching out to scratch Nahuel behind the ears. And Nahuel, who had so far ignored everyone, greedily ate up the attention with his purr loud enough you could easily hear it.

“You know him?”

Credence looked slightly abashed, glancing only briefly at you as he focused on the cat. “He finds me sometimes. When I’m alone. He’s...a rather strange cat.”

Far more than you had realized, apparently. “Yes he is, isn’t he?”


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 2/24/18

The days wore into a week. The first real mundane week since moving to New York. Modesty and Credence broke the monotony twice with their visits; the bruise a garish yellow-green as it lingered on Credence’s cheek. He continued to refuse to say who caused it, or why. Modesty had made a passing comment that their mother was upset about something, but seemed too scared to say anything else. 

You were sorely tempted to hunt the woman down and demand an answer. Except you were fairly sure no matter what her answer was, it wouldn’t be justifiable in your opinion and she would end up with something worse than a bruised cheek. And well, the only benefit of that was enjoying the cumple of her nose against your fist, and nothing else. 

Instead, you fussed over the pair even more, and beamed the day you finally got a full smile out of Credence, as brief as it was. 

Then there was Nahuel, who decided he would tempt fate and continue to stay with you while Graves was absent. How he got in and out of your small room, without being seen nonetheless, was a complete mystery to you. But he came and and went as he pleased, and often waited by the club on your nights to work, proving to be a gentleman as he walked you home. Often hissing at people that came to close or whose eyes lingered on you for a second longer than you were comfortable with. You had grown rather thankful for his company, considering the people that were wont to linger in the shadows that late at night, and were going to miss his company once Graves returned.

Whenever that was.

There was no doubt he was some type of lawman. Obviously not a street cop. Detective maybe? Or something higher? FBI? Or some other secretive government agency?

One week slowly marched into two, and you simply prayed he would make it home safe.

***

“That boy is racking up a fair amount of money,” McNally commented chewing on his cigar as you took a seat before him. He had called you into his office, initially refusing to state why, but now you had an unsettling feeling why. After all, there was no need to ask which boy he was talking about. The same boy facing a panic attack when you asked him to mind the cash register while you were gone. 

Credence.

“And I remind you,” McNally continued, his eyes peering over his glasses as you tensed in his chair, ready to defend your part time helper. “His pay is coming out of your salary. That’s all I want to talk to you about, so calm down mother bear.”

You flushed but relaxed into the wooden chair, crossing your legs. “Sorry. But I don’t see why that concerns me. Shouldn’t you talk to him?”

McNally shook his head. “He’s scared spitless and he’s a little slow. I don’t have the time or patience for him. Besides, he’s your pet project, not mine. You though?” He paused and took a deep huff of his cigar, holding it for a moment before releasing the smoke, “I have a soft spot for spitfires that aren’t afraid to hold their own. And I know you been pullin’ two jobs, and that ain’t right. I made sure when I hired ya that your salary would be enough.”

“It is enough!” You assured quickly. “Even with Credence sharing my pay, I can still handle my rent for Mrs. Shapiro and send some back to Pa for the loan. I picked up the club mainly so I could get experience.”

“But if you had that money, you’d be out of that slum of a house!” McNally shot back, shaking a beefy finger at you. “I know you plan on getting your own apartment--Lord knows why, New York ain’t a place for a girl living all by herself. But the point stands: you need that money, not that boy. He has that crazy family of his looking after him. And he ain’t taking a dime back to them, so they must not be too hard pressed.”

Mention of Credence’s family ruffled your feathers as you adjusted in your chair. “Pardon my french, but that damn mother of his obviously don’t give a lick about him. And you know that just as well as I do. Credence earned that money fair and square. It’s his.”

“Damn it,” he swore, moving his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “You’re one fiery lil hellcat, I swear. I’m just trying to look out for ya.”

“And I appreciate it,” you said. “But I have things handled. If I wanna give half my paycheck to someone, that’s my business.”

McNally sighed and gestured towards the door. “Alright, fine. If that’s how you wanna do it, back to work with you. Lord knows if that boy can do anything without holding your hand.”

“I don’t, and you know that,” you argued as you stood, albeit a little playfully. “Half the time he’ll get things done before I even have time to wonder about it. He’s a better worker than I am.” Your sass only to earn a dark look and a gesture towards the door. 

Still, you thought as you left the cramped office and joined Credence behind to counter just a short few feet away, McNally was far from a bad boss. How many really looked out for the employees like he did? Plus he allowed you to convince him to take on Credence as part-time help instead of just firing you for your mouth. Even if he was completely wrong about Credence. The teen was easy to spook and rarely said a word unprompted, but there was a sharp intellect behind those dark eyes, and a stubbornness to prove himself.

Credence barely flinched when you put your hand on his shoulder as you stepped up beside him. The tension in his frame vanished instantly once he realized who you were. You had no time to question the slight blush to his face as you took his spot that he gladly abandoned for the quietness of the stockroom. The pre-supper rush tended to be quick paced, and today was no exception. Little was spoken outside what was needed until near closing, when the store was finally empty save the two of you. 

“Ma’am,” Credence spoke softly, breaking the simple silence and surprising you. Rarely he was the first one to speak. As per usual, his eyes were trained on the floor instead of you, but he still seemed to know when he had your attention. “I-I heard you and Mr. McNally speaking earlier…” The young man clutched at the broom in his hands expecting a verbal backlash for eavesdropping, but you were currently backpedalling mentally, trying to figure out how this conversation was going to go. 

Your silence was enough to make him look up, his dark eyes hesitantly meeting yours. “That money, you can have it. I don’t need it.” 

That...was not what you expected. You gave a relieved sigh as you relaxed. “Honey, I’m serious about what I said to him. That money is yours. You earned it. A worker must be paid his wages, right?”

He glanced away slightly, “But, if you need it….”

“I don’t need it,” you assured him. “I’m making do just fine. McNally just likes to fuss. But,” you continued after a second, “you know, we should get ya a bank account to sock it away in. It’ll earn interest that way, you know?”

“...But why?” he asked after a moment, sending you a slightly confused look. “I already don’t have a need for it.” 

You shrugged, “For when you decide to strike it on your own, or something. You won’t be like me, paying back a loan. You’ll have a head start.”

There was a long moment of silence that made you pause and glance back at him, only to see him practically frozen in place, an odd expression on his face. You were beginning to worry you had somehow broken him, considering the tight grip on the wooden handle of the broom was turning his knuckles white. “Credence?” you spoke softly, hoping not to startle him. “Credence, honey, what is it?” 

He blinked, the odd look not quite disappearing as much as you realized what it was. 

Hope. 

“Do-do you think…” he spoke, swallowing thickly. “That I could…that I could….”

“Move out?” you finished for him, grinning as he nodded his head. “Of course! I mean, everyone has to at some point, you know? Spread their wings and start flying on their own. And you’re about that age, yeah?”

He nodded his head wordlessly once more, and you could virtually see his mind working, dreaming of the possibilities and you about wanted to jump for joy. A small smile started to twitch on his lips, hope overcoming the haunted shadows in his dark eyes, making him look like a completely different person. 

And in a flash, it was gone. His look crumpled as he looked away, shaking his head. “No. No, I can’t. I owe Ma, and I don’t want to leave Modesty.”

There was an urge to howl in frustration. To take him by the shoulders and tell him he owed his mother nothing. That you would figure out the way to keep Modesty safe, but you bit your tongue instead. Confronting him outright usually only ended in him withdrawing into himself more, undoing the progress you had achieved to get him to open up. 

Instead, you too a breath and put on a faint smile. “We’ll still open that account for ya. Just in case.”

***

The third week came and there was still no sign of Graves. You tried to push your worries aside and convince yourself he was fine. Surely, _surely_ you would know somehow if he wasn’t.

Except who would think to tell you? To the world, you were nobody. Nobody would think to link you with him. There was no reason to. He may know everything about you, but you knew virtually nothing about him.

You pushed those worries away as you swayed on the stage of the 90th Ave Club. It was a small joint, but usually fairly busy. You were growing use to the crowds, rarely ever missing a beat from the small band tucked in the stage around you. It was no Broadway, but better than the bar back home. Especially after the Prohibition drained any fun out of that place. 

During your mindless scanning of the crowds, your mind registered something familiar. It was a little tricky to remember the words as you recognized the man leaning on the counter at the bar, but the smile on your face was anything but fake.

He was here. Percival Graves. In one piece. He noticed your attention and raised the glass in his hand towards you, a smile on his face. You grinned wider in return, swaying your hips a little bit more as you closed your eyes, relief flooding through you as you finished the song. He was okay. He was back, in one piece. He was here.

The boys of the band gave you an odd look as the song ended and you darted off stage instead of hanging back with them per usual. They picked up a wordless melody as you zig-zagged around the dancing couples, dead-set on reaching the bar. 

Of course, it would be when you were next to him your bravado failed you, and nervousness set in as you slid carefully onto the stool next to him. “H-hey.”

The was a weary look on his face that bespoke of a long three weeks, but at the same time his smile seemed anything but fake. “Hey, he replied, motioning to the bartender wordlessly though his eyes never left you. “You’re pretty good up there. A voice to match your looks.”

You flushed even more, accepting the glass of water from Jake. “T-thanks. I, um, I’m glad you came. Well, that you’re back, and you’re okay, I was kinda worried. I-I mean, I’m sure you're good at your job--whatever it is-- and all, I’m just a worry wort and why do I always just ramble around you?” You ended with a very unladylike whine as you rested your head on the bar counter, hoping the granite would cool your burning face. 

Especially when a warm chuckle answered you, Graves reaching over to brush the hair along your neck, his fingers ghosting down your spine until it met the dress between your shoulder blades. “I find it to be rather charming, honestly.”

“At least there’s that.” You sat back up, taking a sip of water and wished it was the moonshine that the place had hidden down in the cellar. At least that way you could feel at least a little relaxed around him, and not be constantly thinking about the last time you saw each other. “Because it embaresses the heck out of me.”

“That may be part of the charm,” he replied, and you snuck a glance to see the little smirk on his lips. Honestly, how could a man look so tired but yet have a warmth and energy in his eyes to make your heart flutter? Especially as his hand gently brushed the hair from your cheek, tenderly tucking it behind your ear. His fingers felt warm against your skin as his hand lingered for a moment longer. 

“You must be quite the ladies man, Mr. Graves,” you said softly, unwilling to break whatever was happening between you, but also trying to keep yourself firmly stuck in reality and not wherever la-la land your head and heart were trying to lead you. “I don’t know why you bother with little ol’ me. I ain’t nothing special.”

The smile faded slightly as his hand finally fell from your face. “You don’t realize how unique you are. To me, at least.” 

You felt more than a little guilty at the dark look that flashed in his eyes as he turned back to his own drink. You bit your lip, and after a moment of deliberation you reached across to twine your fingers with the hand resting on his thigh. “Hey, um, well, I’m glad you do put up with me. I really do enjoy it.” You offered a smile as he glanced towards you, which became a bit brighter as he squeezed softly. “But, be honest with me Mr. Graves,” you didn’t fail to notice the tension in his shoulders at your words, though you filed that away in your mind as you continued, “did you get any sleep these last three weeks? You look like death warmed over.”

The tension evaporated as he chuckled rather guiltily. “Well, if we’re being honest here...not as much as I should have, perhaps.”

“Then what the heck are doing here, Mr. Graves? You should be in bed, dead to the world for at least eight hours, if not more. I’m sure you deserve the break.”

One brow rose in amusement as he turned more towards you. You were all to aware of where the dark fabric of his slacks brushed against your bare knee, how tight his grip was on your hand. “You’ve become quite the bossy woman since I left.”

“Well, um, that’s...actually quite normal for me,” you admitted shyly. “You just fluster me too much half the time.”

“She’s an absolute terror when she gets started,” Jake agreed, surprising both of you by his sudden, uninvited, presence. “Believe me, it’s no wonder why she isn’t married yet.” You gave the man a dark look, which went completely ignored as he filled your cups and disappeared again. By the time you looked back at Graves, there was no somber shadow left in his expression, instead there was amusement obvious in his eyes. Which at least helped the embarrassment....

Okay, not really. But it was at least distracting.

“If you must know, I came to see you,” he confessed after a moment, thumb mindlessly rubbing across your knuckles. For once, he looked rather abashed as he met your eyes. “I just wanted to see you again before I dealt with the aftermath of paperwork.”

Oh. 

Well. 

His admission gave you the courage you needed to slide off the bar stool and then lean up against him to press a kiss to his cheek. The short stubble scratching your lips pleasantly as your lips lingered for a moment. He shifted, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his own breath ghosted along your neck. Your eyes fluttered close as his nose brushed yours, hesitant. You weren’t sure if his lips brushed yours lightly, or if you were just imagining it. Your fingers curled into his clothes as you gathered your courage to lean in closer.

And you were going to kill David as he hissed your name sharply, calling you back to reality and back to the stage. Your eyes opened to meet Percival’s, admitting to yourself you would be perfectly content to answer that warm, heady look in his gaze--screw what everyone else thought. Unfortunately, the only kiss you received was a soft, lingering press of lips to your forehead before he drew away. “I’ll see you when I can,” he whispered, brushing your cheek fondly. 

“Get some sleep first, okay?” You answered softly, “Or I’ll start fussing at you too, and you don’t want that.” 

David used your last name as he stalked closer, obviously impatient and you knew you were in for a searing lecture, but couldn’t find the heart to care as Graves pressed as kiss to your knuckles. “As you wish, my lady.”


	8. Eight

There was a desperate tone to Nahuel’s cry, breaking you out of your book. The tawny cat was on the outside, pawing at the glass with a frantic look in his eyes. A sense of dread settled in your stomach as you opened the window, letting him in. Except, instead of scrabbling to get inside, he grabbed the hem of your nightgown and tugged. A swear passed your lips as you grabbed your coat and climbed out onto the fire escape. For Nahuel to act so panicked and anxious...you didn’t even question his behavior. Obviously something was wrong, and he needed your help. That was all you needed to know. 

Nahuel’s usual leisurely pace was replaced with a full out run as he led you through the night--the exact opposite way of the ritzy brownstone of Graves’ apartment, which was more worrying than comforting. For nearly thirty minutes, you followed the cat through the near-silent streets of NewYork, not really paying attention to which way you were going. Instead your mind was running through worse case scenarios. Graves in danger, or hurt, or worse. Or maybe Credence, since the cat apparently had bonded with the boy as well. 

Your racing thoughts were violently silenced as you turned another corner and was met with a war zone. It was like someone had taken a plow to the street, upturning the cement as easily as tilled soil. The buildings lining the street had huge pieces bombed out, glass littering the streets. Cars overturned and tossed like they were nothing but toys. 

Nahuel noticed your sudden pause and yowled loudly half a block away. You snapped back to reality, something shifting away from panic into determination as you followed the cat into the rubble and then into a darkened alley. In the distance you could hear sirens wail, but closer… you could hear muffled sobbing. 

“Hello?” You called out carefully as you stepped hesitantly over the broken bricks and other debris, wishing you had enough intelligence to throw one some kind of shoes before leaving. The sobbing was quickly silence with a hitched breath. “Hey, there--there’s no need to worry,” you tried to reassure, hoping you weren’t doing something incredibly stupid. “I ain't gonna hurt you.”

The silence was broken as a hoarse but still familiar voice stumbled over your name, making your heart pound.

“Credence?” Any hesitation was lost as you quickly clambered over the debris, no longer caring as you felt sharp rocks scratch your bare soles. Nahuel’s eyes appeared to glow in the dark, guiding you to the shivering young man huddled between two oddly untouched garbage bins. “Credence. Dear Lord, are you okay sweetie?” You quickly crouched down next to him, modesty and etiquette be damned.  It was hard to see anything more than his silhouette, but he felt cold and clammy, shaking beneath your light touch. “Honey, are ya hurt? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, words failing him.  However, as soon as you wrapped your arms around him, he quickly clutched onto you with his arms wrapping around your waist painfully tight. You took a moment to catch your breath, steeling yourself against the pain as you stroked his hair, murmuring reassurances all the while you could feel tears seep through your thin gown as he continued to try and muffle his crying but failing. 

It wasn’t too long, however, that the distant police sirens were growing worryingly closer. You had no clue what happened here, but the last thing you wanted was the law being involved. “Honey, we need to get away from here. I don’t think either of us wants to try and answer what happened.” As much as it obviously hurt him, you pulled away and stood up, offering a hand to him. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

There was an obvious flinch, but he took your hand and stood, never losing his vice grip on it as you followed Nahuel out the undamaged half of the alley and hopefully away from the police. Thankfully, more and more people were filling the streets in curiosity, allowing you to blend in and become lost in the astonished crowd. 

Well, as much as you could. Credence’s shoulders were curled and with his head bowed appeared as short as you, his arm tucked in yours, both his and your own knuckles white. As much as you were trying to pass by unnoticed, it was easy to spot the few looks you garnered. First a frown of concern, and then a disapproving look from the fact you were in a coat that barely covered your night gown, feet bare and bloodied.

Thankfully, they often looked away as soon as you met their disdain expression with the harshest glare you could muster. 

After a few minutes of walking, the crowd thinned and left the sidewalks empty once more. Nahuel paused at the street corner, glancing curiously at you, wanting to know what the next step was. Your first instinct was to bring him home, to your place. Somewhere he was safe, where he was protected and cared for.

Except there was a strict no-men policy at the boarding house, and you were fairly Mrs. Shapiro wouldn’t believe you if you tried to explain to her that there was nothing between you and him. That you saw him like a brother, maybe even a son.  So, unfortunately, that only left one option.“Okay, honey, which way do you live?” 

Credence swallowed thickly, finally looking up from the pavement, his eyes red and glossy in the street lights as he glanced over to you, and then down briskly what you wearing before looking away. “You-you don’t have to walk me home. I...you...mother…”

Instinctively, you wanted to argue. Every part of you was shouting that yes, you did. Because you were undeniably certain that whatever caused his mood was related to that other woman. Forget decency of walking around New York in your nightgown that barely covered your knees, you needed to have words with Mrs. Barebones. And if words proved too weak, maybe a harsher language would get your point across. 

Except...except that would probably only make things worse for him, not better. After a long moment and with a resigned sigh, you nodded your head, though equally reluctant to let go of his hand as he was to let go of yours. “Okay. But ya gotta promise me. You need anything, you come to me. Even if it’s just for some company, okay? You know where I am.”

He nodded his head, and you gave into the urge to hug him one last time. You wanted to take back your words as he clutched at you desperately for a moment, face buried in your shoulder as he grabbed at your waist for comfort before forcing himself away. Out of sheer will you managed to keep your bare feet still as he turned and shuffled down the street. Nahuel hesitated, rubbing up against your leg before trotting after him, easing the anxiety and guilt gnawing at your soul. 

***

Since Graves returned a few weeks ago, Nahuel hadn’t visited as often. Though, you also wondered if it wasn’t because the odd cat had taken to being with Credence more often, usually right by his side when he should up the few days he worked, and often leaving with him as well. And as glad as you were that he had bonded with the boy and obviously brought some happiness to Credence, a part of you was selfish and missed the cat, and the excuse to go visit Percival.

Without an excuse, you were too far shy to drop by his apartment. Would he be home? Have company? Be too busy for a social call? The few times you did escort Nahuel home, Graves looked...tired. He assured you many times that yes, he was getting sleep. Yes, he would take care of himself, and countered almost playfully that he wasn’t the one working two jobs alongside cat-sitting a very demanding pet. 

Nahuel had baulked at that, his ears flicked back as he chirped disapprovingly. Which you hadn’t been aware a cat could do until he proved he could. Graves hadn’t appeared surprised, but merely glanced at him as the cat stalked away affronted before resuming the easy banter of seeing who was the worst workaholic. 

A parting kiss on the knuckles was close to his lips as you got, but the look in his eyes still had butterflies dancing in your belly. You just wish you had enough bravado to act on it, instead of waiting for his lead. 

Maybe he was waiting on you, and wasn’t that a strange thought. All those boys back home that had been put off by your independent, forward thinking, and bossy attitude, yet here was a man that all but encouraged it. Enjoyed it even. And he didn't seem to under the impression you were a loose woman as many men did at some nights. 

Jake had called you bossy before, and now he was adding violent to your growing list of why you were going to be a spinster. It wasn’t your fault you pops had taught you how to defend yourself well before the age of sixteen. And you weren’t about to let him of all people down. So if a man was too close, too pushy, you told him off and pushed him back if a sharp word or look didn’t work. 

You shook your head out of the clouds, trying to focus back on the newspaper splayed across the counter at McNally’s. You turned the page away from the front page that announced Senator Shaw’s plans to run for office yet another year, with a large picture of the young man. You had no care for politics, though the suffrage movement was starting to garner your attention. It was the next page that caught your attention, however. ‘ _ Third gas explosion rocks New York this month.’ _

Another, far too familiar picture showed a wrecked building and streets. You could easily recall that night a few weeks ago when Nahuel led you to Credence in the alleyway; the boy shaking and shivering. Your gut twisted-you hadn’t seen him either lately, and ever since that night he seemed even more on edge, even more withdrawn. You hadn’t seen any bruises or anything, yet you had never been so worried. 

Add to the fact you had seen gas explosions before, back home when the bar had developed one and the place blew sky-high. Flames were everywhere until someone had the smarts to turn off the main line. Even then, it took nearly a day to control the fire.

That night...no, that wasn’t a gas line. There was no explanation that you could think of for that kind of wreckage. Nothing….

Your eyes landed on one of the long-forgotten leaflets of the Barebone’s, tucked beneath the cashier and used as a scrap piece of paper to take notes and doodles. ‘ _ Magic is real _ .’ Initially, you scoffed at the stray thought. No, it definitely was not. But as time progressed and the day wore on, the thought refused to die. 

By the time Nahuel slinked in as the last customer ducked out, the thought had firmly took root. Witches, magic, unnatural power...it would actually explain a few things. “What do you think?” you asked the sleek cat as he jumped up on the counter, demanding as always for attention. “Witches and magic. Surly it’s a sign I’m insane, right?”

He paused, tilting his head just slightly as his sharp gaze peered right through you. Not accusatory, but almost...curious. For some reason, you felt yourself become flustered as you shook your head. “It has to be. I’ve lost it. The fact I’m even considering that superstitious hogwash is proof. Plus, I’m holding a conversation with a cat.” You rested your head in your hands with a groan. “I’m insane. Just lock me up in the nearest asylum. Tell my family I love them, and tell Jake and Dave they were right, I’m a nutcase.”

Nahuel only gave a light mew, rubbing against your arm. “Yeah, I suppose I should take you home first, huh? I may be crazy but I still need to have manners…” You paused as your eyes met Nahuel, not for the first time still stunned by the intelligence that lurked in them. “Credence always said his mother thought cats were witches familiars. That would make Mr. Graves…” You couldn’t even complete the thought, but dissolved into giggles as you thought of the sleek man with the iconic pointy black hat. 

On a broomstick.

“Nope, I’m not getting that image out of my head,” you gasped for breath between the giggle of the hysterical nature. There were still a giggle occasionally escaping as you locked up the store, pulling your coat around tight as you both slipped into the night, virtually forgetting you still had the leaflet in hand as you walked with Nahuel. After all, it was just a silly, sleep-deprived thought.

Right?

***

“I thought you didn’t believe in that.”

The smile on Percival’s face faded as he caught a glimpse of the forgotten leaflet in your hand. You had really been aware of picking up the piece of paper, but you were more distracted and stunned by how quickly the warm, friendly expression had been replaced by a very careful, neutral mask after he opened the door and noticing the leaflet.

“I don’t...well, I mean it’s silly, but...I don’t know,” you sighed, too distracted to notice the tension only coil tighter in Grave’s frame as you looked at the leaflet. “I know that I hate this damn woman. I ain’t even met her and I hate her. And I know, well, I think...well, it’s more of a ‘I think I’m crazy yet I can’t shake this feeling’ kinda thing.” 

“About what?”

You paused and looked up at him, noting that despite your winding rambling, that usually elicited at least a slight smile, there was absolutely nothing warm or welcoming to his expression. The relaxed pose he usually adopted was gone, and instead you were met with the same tension and seriousness of what you silently called his ‘lawman’ persona. That...that was more than a little odd, you thought. “Hey. it’s nothin. I’m just being silly. Overworked and overtired, ya know?”

Except his mood didn’t shift as he stood from the door frame he had been leaning on. Instead, the way he said your name sent icy shivers racing down your spine as his firm gaze locked with yours. “Tell. Me.” 

“I, uh, well, it’s just odd, ya know?” you rambled despite yourself, unconsciously pulling your coat closer around your frame. “Those gas explosions that keep happening. They just...don’t seem right, ya know? I saw one, that second one. Nahuel led me there, I have no clue what that child was doing there but...there ain’t no way that was caused by a gas leak.” 

“Child? What child?” He demanded, and for a moment you felt honestly afraid for a moment by the look in his eye. 

“Credence,” you answered. “Percival...is everything okay?” 

In  the blink of an eye, a very polite but distant smile replaced the cold, severe look that had had you actually almost fearing the man. “Yes. However, I have something to attend to.”

Despite his words, you didn’t feel reassured as he turned and disappeared into his apartment without the usual kiss goodbye. If anything, you felt disquieted as you left, as if something shifted between the two of you. And not for the better. 

***

Graves rested his head on the closed door, one fist resting against the wood while the other fist shook at his sides, the familiar weight of his wand not reassuring between his fingers.

He knew. He knew this would happen. There as a reason Rappaport’s law was in place. A reason for the separation of the magical and no-maj worlds. 

But damn it, why? Why you? Why now? 

He should have known better. He should have obviated you weeks ago. He should have found a way to keep Nahuel from persistently drawing you to him. He should have never befriended you. 

He should have never fallen in love.

But he had, damnit. He had fallen head over heels for you.

A sharp crack of magic shattered the bookcases, sending paper and the magic-detectors flying. Nahuel jumped and hissed from his napping place in an arm chair; his arched back and fluffed fur unnoticed as Graves kept throwing spells out of anger towards the furniture. 

He was the Director of Magical Security. 

He should have known better. 

You were a no-maj

He should have known better.

This should have never happened. 

_ He should have known better. _

After a minute of throwing curses and hexes around his apartment, Graves collapsed into the leather chair, running a hand through his hair. This was disaster. A horrendous mistake. 

From the chair across from his, Nahuel growled once more, earning a dark look from the wizard. “Don’t,” Graves warned, pointing his ebony wand at the half-wampus. “You started this. None of this would have happened if you would have left her alone.” 

Nahuel’s ruffled fur smoothed down along his spine, though his ears continued to point backwards, his gold-green eyes  narrowed as his tail thrashed in protest and defiance. He didn’t think the suspicion was worth the overreaction, and apparently felt no remorse for his actions. 

Graves sighed as he ran a hand through his hair one last time before restoring the room to its former glory with a flick of his wand. Shards of the glass melded together, pages mending themselves as books reformed and took their places on the restored shelves. Finally, the small scopes and other dark-magic detectors found their places among the old tomes. 

But what caught his eyes was the miniature version of the Macusa’s magical-exposure threat clock, which was the last to settle before his family’s heirlooms. He expected it to be at the Level 4 ‘Danger’ it had ticked to that day of the first unusual activity. Or worse, Level 5 ‘Immediate Threat’ or, fates-forbid, a Level 6 Emergency.  

Instead, it had clicked it’s bronze hand back to Level 3 ‘High Alert’. That was...odd. Graves frowned and flicked his wrist, summoning the object. It was no bigger than a paperweight, and a quick spell assured it was still functioning correctly. Still connected to the master clock at Macusa’s headquarters. 

Granted, it could all just be a coincidence. Except Graves was very skeptic of such things, his years of working as an Auror, and especially the last few as the Director, had dashed any belief of coincidences. 

Everything was connected. Especially when magic was involved. Especially with her close proximity to Credence and the Second Salemers. They were all somehow linked to the unusual incidences. It linked to the boy, he was sure of that, but he couldn’t prove it, or find any substantial links. And he didn’t want to act on a whim and risk provoking whatever force they were dealing without assuring that he could handle it. Without knowing he could protect the magical world. The city. The boy. You. 

All of the Macusa’s laws and protocols demanded that the no-maj be obviated, and that he focus on his priorities. Yet, his instinct cautioned against that path. If your involvement lessened the risk, surely it warranted special consideration. After all, you didn’t  _ know _ . Not yet. 

He would hold off with wiping your memory, but he did need to distance himself. As much as he didn’t want to. 

But Credence...he had been there. Graves swore to himself again. As if the abnormality wasn’t odd enough, wasn’t causing him enough stress, you had to give him further proof that whatever was wrecking his city was tangled with those No-maj scourers.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edit 2/24/18

A few days after that odd encounter, Nahuel once more demanded an evening walk after a boring day at McNally’s. And honestly, seeing Percival actually sounded like a better idea than usual. To have someone happy to see you, to see warmth in _someone’s_ eyes directed towards you instead of the vacant, shadowed look in Credence’s, or the annoyed look that McNally had today when you had a very quiet yet intense argument about money and your apparent lack thereof.

Honestly, the man was becoming worse than your own parents. 

Just one smile. That’s all you needed. Just a smile and maybe a friendly hello, and it would make up for the gloomy day. Or at least part of it.

Surly, things would be better than the last time. You had convinced yourself he had been overly stressed, and that was why he reacted the way he did. What else would have made him act so?

Still, the flutter of your heart wasn’t entirely pleasant as you gave the usual knock on the polished brass, and waited rather nervously with your hands in your coat pockets. It wasn’t long before the door opened with a slight click, but it only opened enough for Nahuel to slip in before closing again, leaving you alone and confused.

W-what the heck? Your hand was a mere second away from knocking again, demanding an answer before you caught yourself. Maybe...maybe he had a busy day. Surly that was it. He was just tired and overworked; same as yourself. Maybe you had just caught him at a bad time. 

Your hands slipped back in your coat pocket, though your feet were hesitant to leave, almost praying that the door would open again and he’d give some perfectly logical excuse as an apology. Something that would make you laugh at your silliness, and completely forget how heavy your heart felt.

Except the door never opened, and Percival never stepped out. You reluctantly shuffled down the hall and left the brownstone, feeling a little worse than when you had arrived. 

Things would improve. They had to.

*** 

At the end of the week, you walked Nahuel home again. And yes, the door did open enough to see Graves. 

Except he gave a prefunctury ‘thank you’ as the cat slipped inside then shut the door in your face. 

Then again on Monday. Thursday. Saturday.  
Each time, he either said nothing or offered a brief yet polite thank you as Nahuel made his way into the apartment before he closed the door. No more friendly smiles, or simple questions that led to flustered rambles. No quirky smirks that left you feeling flush. No offers to escort you home, no kisses to your knuckles. None of the Percival you had come to expect. The man that you loved. 

You missed him. You saw him but you missed _him._ And you were clueless to the sudden change. 

Did he honestly feel that strongly against the Second Salemers? Yes, they were crazy, but it wasn’t as if you agreed with any of their ideals. You had simply expressed that odd feeling in your gut that something was amiss. You didn’t even really believe magic being a serious option.

The dark, cloudy days did nothing to help your mood and the long nights at the club didn’t help either. 

You were tired. 

Overworked.

Miserable. 

Stressed.

Worried.

Lonely.

“Hey Nahuel,” you muttered as the sleek cat trotted up the stairs of the fire escape, where you had taken refuge. No one would hear you crying on the metal stairs, unlike the paper thin walls inside. The last thing you needed was the other girls gossiping behind your back. Some of them gloating, feeling vindicated by your breakdown. Others whispering pityingly yet never offering help or support. Despite being with a dozen young women your age and virtually the same situation as you, you felt as if you were completely alone. 

The tawny cat paused for a moment, giving you a critical look before headbutting your bent knee, purring loudly as you reached out to him, making you smile. “At least you still like me,” you whispered as he climbed in your lap, acting as if he was starved for affection. 

Rather like Credence. The young man that was always hesitant whenever you touched him. A pat on the shoulder, a hug to say hello, no matter what he always froze stiff for a moment, but once understood your touch wasn’t going to hurt simply curled into your embrace, or gripped your hand so tight it hurt. His actions spoke of such desperation for affection, for love, yet couldn’t say anything; because when you did, he only drew away from you. Both literally and metaphorically. 

He may not be much younger than you in years, but he inspired a fierce maternal instinct that was hard to deny. Yet, you couldn’t protect him. Just tend the wounds after the fact, and hope you could mend the emotional ones as well. And lately, he seemed more withdrawn, and only clamped down harder no matter how gently you tried to pry any information from him. Like where Modesty was. Why did he look so tired? Why was he so pale? Why was he jumping at every little thing?

“I can’t do anything right, can I?” you confessed to the cat. “Can’t keep a friend. Can’t protect anyone. Heck the other girls here think I’m some weirdo and won’t have nothing to do with me. All cause I don't wanna rely on a guy. Heh, and here I am mooning over one.” There was a huff of laughter as you shook your head, “I’m a mess, ain’t I?” 

Nahuel mewed in agreement, which earned a sharp bark of laughter from you. “You agree, huh? Well, let’s get this over with so I can come back for a good cry.” 

There was an odd look in his eye, but he made no protest as you stood. He walked by your side instead of leading the way, which surprisingly helped ease the ache of loneliness. But didn’t help the sense of dread that replaced the nervous jitters that once consumed you as you approached the fancy brownstone apartment building. You didn’t want to see that detachment on the face that once made your heart race. The cold stony gaze that replace the warm, fond look in those beautiful dark eyes. 

So, instead of waiting after giving the knocker one quick rapp as opposed to your usually more cheerful set, you turned and retreated. Nahuel yowled, but you ignored him for once, especially as you heard the door click open. 

And yet, you still couldn’t resist pausing a few moments later when you reached the stairwell, turning you head just enough to see down the hall. You expected it to be empty, but Graves was standing there at his door. For a moment, you swore you something flash across his face; maybe regret, loss, _something_. 

But as quick as the expression blossomed, it disappeared and he quickly withdrew back into his apartment. 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you rushed down the stairs, and you tried to push the feeling aware. But despite your best attempt, you didn’t manage to leave the building dry-eyed. You didn’t even manage to make it off the block before your knees crumpled and left you sobbing on the sidewalk, unaware of strangers giving you a wide berth as they passed. 

So, this was how heartbreak felt like.

And Lord, if it didn’t hurt. 

***

Nahuel protested loudly as he scratched at the door. Or at least the half-wampus was trying to, but his nails were futilely striking the magical barrier that kept his own magic from opening the door. The tawny beast paced back to where Graves sat at his desk, jumping up in the middle of the heavy tome he had been flipping though and sat down purposely, glaring daggers at the wizard. 

Graves leaned back in the chair with a sigh, meeting the cat’s steely gaze with his own. “For the last time, Nahuel, no.” 

The wampus argued by thrashing his tail, upsetting the piles of paper that sat around him. The papers floated in the air for a moment before settling back in their appropriate stacks, only to be disrupted again by Nahuel’s tail as he continued to glare at the wizard. “You can’t keep leading her here,” Graves argued against Nahuel’s silent demand. “It’s only making things worse.” Because each time he saw you, it about broke his resolve. Seeing the tears form in your eyes, the broken expression on your that was usually so sunny, smiling ear to ear. 

But he would have never guess watching you walk away would be even worse. You may not have said a word, but he got the message clearly enough. You were done with this. With him. He would respect your wishes, as much as it killed him. 

Honestly, what had he expected, befriending a no-maj? There wasn’t going to be a happy end to that scenario. In fact, this was probably one of the better outcomes. And maybe, if he kept telling himself, he’d actually start believing it. 

***

Two weeks. Two weeks with no sign of Graves. Two weeks without a visit from Nahuel. Two boring, quiet weeks. You had wanted the drudgery of walking the cat home end, to stop having your heart broken every time. Except...except this felt worse. Seeing him, knowing he was okay...that was better than complete absence. 

“Um, ma’am,” Credence started, breaking you out of your thoughts when he hesitantly used your name. “You..haven’t been...yourself lately,” he continued, holding the broom tightly in his grip while his eyes carefully stayed on the straw bristles. “Are you mad about something?”

“Oh, honey, no,” you quickly reassured while chiding yourself. So lost in your own misery, you forgot that he might take your silence a different way. “I’ve just been kinda down lately, that’s all.”

You had rather hoped the explanation would be enough, but there was a moment of silence before he looked up, his eyes as dark as Graves but seemingly fathomless and shadowed. “Why?” 

You sighed, putting down the rag you had been washing the windows with--it was after hours, thankfully, though a few people still passed on the sidewalks outside. “A...friend of mine...well, he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore. And I don’t really understand why.” You didn’t dare tell him your suspicion that the simple little leaflet had caused the massive rift to form. 

Something shifted in his dark eyes as he looked back down and resumed sweeping. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed again, “It’s not your fault. It happens sometimes, I guess. I just wasn’t prepared for it.” After all, everything had been going good. More than you could have hoped. You had felt you had been on the precipice of something special, only to have this happen instead. 

You shook those thoughts out of your mind and shot Credence a small smile. “Hey, at least I got you, right?” 

That got a shocked looked from him, which made your smile grow just a bit. A smile inched its way across his face as he bashfully looked away once more. “Y-yeah. You have me.” He froze as you impulsively breached the distance between you and pulled him in for a hug, this time for your comfort instead of his. His arms wrapped around you after a slight hesitation before he repeated himself quietly, “you have me.”

***

Wizards were idiots. 

Nahuel lounged in the dying sunlight that filtered through the window, looking out over New York. It was common knowledge that most of wizarding kind were rather dim. All humans were, magical or not. They thought they knew everything when honestly they were oblivious. Just like little children. 

He had thought this wizard had an ounce of intelligence; after all, he was one of the few that seemed to understand him. It was first gratitude that spurred him to follow the wizard in an attempt repay his debt. And then it was fun to baffle the witches and wizards as he kept appearing in their MACUSA despite all their efforts to keep him out. Plus, Graves as an honest wizard, fueled by justice and determination to do what was right.

But yet, here he was. Confined to the wizard’s abode while the swell of dark magic continued to grow; becoming nearly tangible to anything with the slightest sense of magic. And when that power did become too much for the boy to control, when it finally erupted in all of its glory, it will wreak destruction across the city, killing anything in its path. 

He had literally led the one person that could help Graves save the boy, who could stop the dark magic before it grew out of control. After all, it was Graves job to keep the city safe.Yet what did he do? He stuck to that silly wizard law, even when it was plain to see his instincts were telling him otherwise. Somehow the wizard wasn’t connecting the dots, and Nahuel was starting to question if he even could. Perhaps he had put too much faith in him.

He wouldn’t let the boy die. He wouldn’t be responsible for hundreds, possibly thousands, of lives that would be lost if this darkness continued to grow.

***

It was getting darker earlier as winter approached, making you feel even more wary as you left the boarding house, dressed in a short flapper dress. You felt eyes staring at you and whispers follow you towards the club. Before you paid them little mind, but just like everything else lately, it gnawed at your heart, making you feel paranoid as you quickened your steps. 

A long meow caught your attention, making you look up from the sidewalk. Perched up on the handrail of a set of stairs was Nahuel, sitting as pretty as ever. “What are you doing here?” You asked as you walked over to him, figuring you could pause for a little bit. He pressed into your hand as you scratched his ear, purring loudly. As happy as you were to see him, your stomach twisted. “Please, Nahuel. Don’t make me follow you home today. I...I don’t think I could handle it.” 

He paused for a moment, his golden eyes piercing your soul before he suddenly jumped down, twining around your legs before waiting on you. “You’re gonna walk with me to the club?” you asked with a half laugh, and was answered by an affirmative meow. This time you did laugh as you continued on your way, not feeling nearly as self-conscious as before. Instead your heart felt lighter than it had all week.


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited 2/24/18

Where had that damned cat gone?

Coming home to an undisturbed house for once in the past couple of weeks had been a short-lived blessing. For a short moment he thought Nahuel had regained his senses and decided not to trash the apartment in protest. 

Then he realized the apartment was untouched because the half-wampus had somehow slipped past his wards. Any ease evaporated at the realization, and soon he was once more tearing through the streets of New York in search of a magical creature. Thankfully, this one was easy to trace; the few magical creatures that were approved to live in the city had some kind of tracking spell on them, in case of emergencies. 

It didn’t take long for Graves to realize where Nahuel was leading him as he stormed down the dark and empty streets. As he predicted, the tracer led him to the no-maj nightclub where you worked. Of course he would be there. Of course he would be with you. He was certain the half-wampus was infatuated with you almost as much as he was. 

He should just leave. Wait until tomorrow and catch Nahuel when he was alone, or at least not in a highly-public area. 

Except the chance to see you again was a temptation he couldn’t seem to resist. Instead of turning away, he continued past the gilded doors. The club was the same as the night he returned from assignment: busy but not packed. Couples filled the dance floor, their laughter veying with the fast-paced music from the live band. And there, in the spotlight swaying to the tempo, was you. 

It was both a hit in the gut and a breath of fresh air to see your smile again. To hear your voice. There were no hidden shadows in your eyes as you scanned the crowd. No look of hurt or rejection twisting your features to break his heart. 

It still did, however. Seeing you and knowing that this was as close as he would ever get. Knowing that your smile, your laugh, none of it would be just for him anymore. 

Still, the pain didn’t stop him from finding an empty stool at the bar, a cautious spell keeping attention away from him. He lost track of time, just watching. Listening. Drinking the sight of your in and trying to memorize the light in your eyes, the curve of your face and the shape of your frame. He had missed you so much it was worth the bitter taste in his mouth as he kept reminding himself how stupid he was being.

It wasn’t until near closing time when he finally left, any thoughts of collect Nahuel forgotten. Instead, all he could do was hope that a glass of firewhiskey would lighten his heart enough that his chest wouldn’t ache so much. 

***

It started out as an excuse to keep tabs on Nahuel. After all, having a wampus wandering freely around New York was just a hair's breadth away from being illegal. 

Nevermind he had only seen the half-wampus twice out of the dozen visits, and both times it was just coincidence. Each time, Nahuel seemed displeased as he would flick his ears back, his tail thrashing angrily a few times before he turned and stalked away. 

However, honestly, he wasn’t here for Nahuel. He could at least admit to himself. He was there because of you. Because he was a lot weaker than he thought, and allowing himself that one time when Nahuel initially ran off had been his downfall. Because seeing you happy, smiling and laughing.; it was a drug he couldn’t resist. At least once or twice a week he would slip in, sit down either at the bar or a corner booth, and feel his heart break even more as he watched you sing and dance. Your shiny flapper dress that always caught the light and sparkle like pixie dust, your smile as wide and bright as ever, and your eyes holding that light that had initially drawn him to you. 

Here he was, the Director of Magical Security for MACUSA. One of the most famous bachelors in the magical US (yes, he was well aware of the pieces featuring him in the tabloids) and he was pining after a no-maj singer/store clerk. 

He needed to stop this. He really did. It wasn't healthy, or productive, let alone strictly legal….

Though, it wasn’t technically illegal either; more of a grey area really...and he really should keep tabs on Nahuel. And there hadn't been another strange attack or anything else to warrant a cause to be extra vigilant.

One more night, he swore to himself, and tried forget he had been telling himself that for the last week. 

***

_~~Dear Percival~~ _

_~~Dear Mr. Graves~~ _

_~~Dear Mister Graves~~ _

_~~To Mr. Percival Graves~~ _

You growled in frustration, slamming your pen down and glaring at the piece of paper with a dozen of attempts at a letter. Or rather, a dozen attempts at an opening for a letter. Goodness knows that if the greeting was giving you this hard of the time, you feared how difficult writing the actual letter would be. 

All because of the cat currently dozing on your pillow, basking in the dying sunlight with one eye halfway opened as he regarded you carefully. As if he was far more intelligent than a cat should be. 

Mr. Graves had said last time that Nahuel could take care of himself...but what if he didn’t know? 

_Mr. Graves_

Okay. Yes. Maybe that would be best. Simple and to the point. 

Now, the hard part.  
…  
…

Another hour later there were several pages laid on your vanity desk, covered in scribbled-out attempts at a simple note. 

__~~Nahuel has claimed my bed as his~~  
Your cat has been staying with me, I hope that this doesn’t mean you’re  
I hope you’re okay  
Your cat is very strange  
Did you know cat hair is extremely hard to get off of black clothes? How did you keep your suits so impeccable?  
Even if you hate me, I will happily take care of Nahuel. Granted, I don’t think he would let me NOT take care of him. 

Why? Why was this so hard? You wrote dozens of letters with barely any planning. Why was this man so...so special? 

Well, you knew why. You just didn’t want to admit it. 

_I wanted to inform you that Nahuel has been staying with me the last few weeks. He’s behaving himself and I quite enjoy his company. I can only assume you are out of town on a business trip again, so I hope this finds you well._

There. That should do it. Courteous without being overly personal. Even though it felt wrong. Part of you grumbled it was too impersonal, but you harshly reminded that piece of you that it was clear Graves no longer viewed you as a friend. You questioned if he ever had to begin with. If maybe everything had been him simply being polite, and you had read far too much into his actions.

Your mind countered with memories of those two almost-kisses, and it was hard pushing those thoughts firmly away as you signed the letter before you sighed in relief.

If you had to write another letter in the next year, it would be too soon. 

Now to mail it….  
…

What was his address again?

You bit back a frustrated scream as you ran your hands through your hair. You had visited the brownstone apartment how many times? Yet the street address completely eluded you. It was on Maple...maybe there was a three? But was that the street address or his apartment number? Every time you tried to focus on the number, it escaped your grasp. Like trying to catch water with your bare hands. 

Nahuel let out a small meow as he decided he was finished watching you struggle. He jumped up on the vanity, butting his head against you for attention. “You know, if you could speak it would make things easier,” you told him as you caved to his demands and ran your fingers through his thick fur. “I don’t suppose you would deliver this for me.”

He sat on the letter and decided to groom himself instead. That...was probably a no. “Fine. Maybe...maybe I’ll remember the address later. I mean, being so stressed out probably doesn’t help.”

He gave you an odd look before resuming his grooming, purring when you scratched his head once more. “You are such an odd cat.” An odd cat, a strange and mysterious man, and an abused yet sweet young man. This was not the life you expected, but despite everything you were rather glad for it.

Even if you wished you and Graves were on better terms. That whatever you did could just be undone or forgotten. Even though your heart was slowly healing, it still ached every time you thought of him. Every time you saw Nahuel, or caught a glimpse of some ritzy-dressed gentleman with black hair pass on the street. Or whenever you caught someone watching you while you performed, and swearing for a split second it was him before reality crashed down around you and you realized it wasn’t. 

***

Another week and the letter continued to sit on your vanity. You were still unsure of an address despite walking past a couple of times in hopes it would jog your memory.

It had a three in it. And maybe a seven?

Nahuel continued to sleep on your pillow or following you to work so he could sleep on the counter. Or play with Credence when the boy tried to sweep the floor and he would randomly attack the broom, or roll in the dust pile. Instead of frustrating him, Credence smiled every time, even chuckling lightly. 

You tried a few more time to convince him to act as messenger, and each time he gave you this crazy look. Which you probably deserved, considering how desperate and passionate you became when all-but begging him.

Either way, it left you with only two options. Toss the letter (which after all your failed attempts you were reluctant to do) or deliver it yourself (which you were equally reluctant to do.)

You finally gathered up your courage after closing up McNally’s at the end of the week. More than likely, you reasoned, he would be gone. And if not...if he wasn’t gone but Nahuel was staying with you for some other reason...well, you were just slipping a note beneath his door. You weren’t gonna see him. 

Probably. 

Hopefully?

You still weren’t sure which outcome you wished for, truth be told. You missed him terribly. The quirk of his lips, the warmth in his eyes, the butterfly kisses to your hand if you were some lady and not...you. 

But you also didn’t want to see him if he still disliked you. To see the coldness in his eyes, the curt formalities as Nahuel slinked inside. You didn’t want to end up in tears again. 

Nahuel followed Credence home, leaving you alone to walk to Graves’ apartment. It felt odd without your usual escort, making your heart pound even quicker as you climbed the stairs and walked quietly down the silent hallway. Tears pricked your eyes as you stared at the familiar brass knocker and matching numbers, your fingers giving into the urge to brush the glossy wood. 

When were these feelings going to fade? You barely knew the man, after all. Yet the heartache was as if you lost a dear friend, or more. 

You shook your head, clearing your head of those thoughts before crouching and slipping the simple note beneath the door. You need to just move on, start the next chapter of your life. Yet you found your feet reluctant to move as you stood, eyes blurry before you rubbed the tears away angrily and forced yourself to turn and leave.

This was it, you swore to yourself. No more pining over a man that wasn’t really ever yours. You were stronger than this. There was more to life to men. You had Credence and Modesty. Hell, you had McNally and even Jake. You would meet more people, and maybe fall in love again with someone new. 

Except you weren’t even halfway to the stairs when you heard your name spoken softly, barely loud enough to hear. You didn’t even think before turning around, surprised yet also not to see Graves stepped halfway into the hallway. He was impeccable as always, dressed in a three piece with his hair slicked back and the faintest shadow of stubble along his strong jaw. 

Good Lord, you had forgotten how handsome he was.

“Na-Nahuel’s been staying with me,” you started after swallowing the lump in your throat. “I thought maybe you were out of town again and just wanted to let you know he’s okay. I mean, I know last time you said he could take care of himself, but, uh, I just thought I should let you know. I suppose that now you’re home he’ll stop bunking with me...” you trailed off as the thought sunk in. You’d come to love Nahuel weaving in and out of your life, waking up with his warm body next to yours. Or seeing the smiles on Credence’s and Modesty’s faces when they played with him. 

Another thought crossed your mind, would Nahuel try to lead your here again? Could you even do that anymore? Coming here nearly every week to see the man you cared for act like a complete stranger. Or worse, having both of them absent from your life once more? Your stomach twisted at the thought, tears stinging your eyes.

“I never left,” Graves admitted after a long moment, surprising you. There was a slightly guilty expression on his face as he avoided your eyes when you looked up. “I believe he’s mad at me.” 

“O-oh,” you whispered. His gaze flickered back to you, and a long and heavy silence filled the void as both of you were unable to look away from the other. Seeing him again, talking to him, it wasn’t making the pain in your chest any lighter. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Before you knew it, the word ‘why’ slipped from your tongue, and once it was out the others quickly followed suit: “What did I do wrong?” The thick feeling returned to your throat, making your voice hitch. You hated sounding so weak, but you couldn’t stop. “I-I’m sorry. I just...I miss you. I mean, I get it if I was being too much or something, but...but….” You hiccupped as the sobs overcame your voice. Shame, guilt, and everything flooded your heart as you wrapped your arms around your waist. 

You were pathetic. 

You missed him so much, though.

Why did your heart have to hurt like this? 

Warm arms suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close. He felt warm and solid against your shaking body, smelling faintly of cologne, whiskey, and something else that you couldn’t name. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered in your ear, hoarse and scratchy as he held you tightly against him, his fingers curling into your hair. “I can’t bear to see you crying.” 

“Sorry.” Except your tears kept falling, seeping into the black vest buttoned over his white shirt. “I’m sorry.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Graves soothed, pressing a kiss to your hair. “It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I should have never had let you get so close. I should have known better.” Confused, you looked up with a slight sniff. Graves wiped the tears from your cheeks, his eyes somehow warm yet sad. “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.” 

“But why?” you couldn’t help but ask. “Couldn’t we at least go back to being friends?” 

A pained look flashed across his face before he closed his eyes, his forehead pressed against yours. “I don’t think we should,” he confessed in a scratchy whisper. “It’s too hard for me as it is.” 

“You know you’re not making any sense, right?” you protested slightly. He gave a dry, humorless chuckle that made you feel flush, feeling the rumble pass from his body to yours. 

“I know,” he sighed, “But it’s hard to explain. We’re...from two different worlds. We should have never met in the first place, let alone…” He trailed off meaningfully. That paired with the look in his eyes and the tender way he brushed your cheek, made your heart soar while also clenching painfully in your chest. 

“This ain’t cause I’m not a high-class lady, is it?” You whispered, truthfully scared of the answer. Was that really it? All of this because of your background? But, it made no sense. He had never appeared to care at all about your heritage, or the fact you were working to support yourself.

“No,” he refuted quickly. “That isn’t it at all. I honestly couldn't care less about your class.”

If that wasn’t it…”You’re really not making any sense.” 

“I know,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. You leaned a little more into him as one of his arms moved to wrap around waist. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips moved to your cheek for another lingering kiss, and then gave the other cheek the same gentle caress. 

There was some mixed messages going on between his words and actions, but you really didn’t care. Not as he finally brushed your lips with his; so light it could barely be called a kiss. A soft noise of protest escaped your throat unintentionally as he drew away. You flushed in embarrassment as you opened your eyes, only to met with a dark, heated look in his gaze that sent thrills down your spine.

His lips met your once more, but this time they were firm and sure. Your breath hitched as your arms wandered up over his shoulders, fingers twisting together as you followed his lead. It was all too easy to lose yourself in the feel of his chapped lips against yours, and it wasn’t long before the tender moment became something else as his hands tangled in your hair, angling you better as his took a taste of your lips with his tongue. 

This. This was heaven. His hands running through your hair, warm yet firm lips demanding on yours. He slowly backed you against the wall of the hallway until you were firmly pressed between the two. It was probably the worst and most unlady-like thing you could be doing, but you didn’t care. If anything, you wanted to pull him closer, to follow that little voice in your head that was growing louder by the second. 

But of course, heaven didn’t exist on earth. All too soon you both had to pull away, desperate for air. You rested your head against his chest, more than a little pleased to feel his heart pounding in tempo with your own. 

“That’s why,” he answered, his voice husky as he whispered in your ear. “Around you I don’t have the self control I need. It’s either all or nothing, and nothing can be between us.”

“Says who?” you protested weakly, doubtful your argument could make a difference but you were going to try. Even if all you achieved was prolonging this moment; being in his arms, safe and warm and protected, it would be worth it. 

Part of you wanted to scoff--all your speeches about not needing a man, not needing a relationship, and here you were.

But damn, if this man wasn’t a special case. 

“Some very powerful people in very high places,” he answered. “There would be hell to pay if they found out. Not just for me, but you as well. And I don’t want that to happen to you. I…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing softly, almost to himself. “I want you to remember me.”

“How could I ever forget you?” you scoffed, but received no other answer except for a kiss pressed to your hair before he pulled away. Some primal part of you was proud and rather...excited by his ruffled hair and the very faint flush to his own cheeks. You did that. You were the one to make the usually calm and impeccable Mr. Graves….

You were the one to effect Percival like that. It was an accomplishment you’ve never been prouder of. 

“I...hate this,” he acknowledged holding on still to your hand, your fingers interlocked with his; both of you seemingly desperate not to let go of one another. “But we need to keep our distance.”

Your heart squeezed painfully beneath your breast, and the tell-tale sting of tears pricked at your eyes. “I understand,” you mumbled, even though in reality, you didn’t. You didn’t understand at all. But surely he had a good reason amongst all his enigmatic answers. Especially after that kiss. Or that look in his eye as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles in that familiar parting gesture.

Because it honestly looked like it killed him as much as it killed you. 

***

“He’s not married, is he?” you asked Nahuel as you laid in bed later that night, unable to sleep. The memories replayed themselves over and over in your mind, your lips still tingling and a warm feeling lingering in your chest and stomach. “I mean, I’ve never seen a ring, and no one else has ever answered the door…. But what if she just came back for a trip or something?” You looked down at the cat curled up on your chest, thoroughly enjoying your fingers running mindlessly down his back. “Surly he’s not married. But...maybe engaged? Is he maybe from one of those old families where they have arranged marriages still?”

Nahuel’s tail thumped lightly against your leg, his ear twitching back for a second, which was his way of saying ‘no.’ Or, at least you had come to assume that. “But then why? That was...that was not a kiss of a man not interested, or just trying to humor me.” No, there had been desperation in that kiss. A yearning that wasn’t your own. You were sure of it. 

You sighed as you adjusted yourself in bed, bringing the sheet over you and the cat. Nahuel simply stuck his head out, stretching out to lay with his head cradled against your shoulder. You wondered if he was this affectionate with Graves, which led your thought to wonder if he talked to Nahuel like he was a person, and what kind of conversations those would be. Did he use the cat as a soundboard as he tried working through whatever problems he faced? Did he talk back when Nahuel meowed like you did, ending in a strange kind of argument?

After all, he did mention that Nahuel seemed angry at him. The thought was rather easy to believe, but made you question _why_ the cat would be upset with him. 

At least you didn’t have to worry about Graves being angry or hating you. That was obviously not the case, but the enigma left in its place was almost as bad. The thoughts storming inside your mind kept you up for hours until you were finally able to fall asleep a short few hours before dawn.

 

***

He should not have done that. He really should _not_ have done that. 

Percival cursed himself later that night, running a hand through his hair as he paced his apartment. That had been a horrendous mistake. That had been an extremely _illegal_ mistake. Relationships with no-majs were to be as distant as possible. Polite to not draw attention, curt to not invoke interest. The most shallow of friendships were frowned upon, and anything more was punishable by law. 

The law _he_ had sworn to uphold as Director of Magical Security.

But Merlin, what was he supposed do? Simply seeing you had been enough of a shock; he had expected Nahuel if not an empty hallway after your note slipped beneath his door. Not you. He had became so used to seeing you dressed up for the stage, it was almost refreshing to see you in your common street clothes. A startling reminder you weren’t some doll or illusion out of reach. You were still you. 

And then suddenly you were crying, rambling as if this whole mess was your fault and not his. Gods, he hadn’t been able to stand that. He could not believe that you felt at fault when the blame clearly laid on him; couldn’t bear you believing he hated you when the exact opposite was true.

All he meant to do was comfort you and hopefully ease that burden off your shoulders. Except one kiss on your forehead led to one on your tear stained cheeks that became two, and then he had been so close to those lips he had been thinking about for far too long. Just one chaste kiss, and it opened a whole bag of flobberworms. The noise you made and the way you gripped at him, it had been too much to resist. His already weak-will collapsed completely as he pressed you against the wall, hungry for your taste. For your smell. For everything about you that he missed. 

And now that he knew exactly how you tasted, how you reacted to him kissing you like that, how was he supposed to stay away? It had been hard enough as it was, but now it was going to be impossible.

He had too, though. This was illegal, he reminded himself harshly. He went after people that threatened the magical world’s security like this. He arrested people who thought they were above the law. He had scoffed when they insisted that their no-maj lovers were different. That they would never reveal their secret.

Would you, though? If you ever did find out the truth, would you accept it? Or would you become hateful like the Barebone clan and their so-called group? 

What was he thinking? You could never find out the truth. Never.

Yet, the thought lingered in his mind, and his heart traitorously replied that you _would_ accept magic. But his logical side reminded him that the more likely scenario was that you would react to the truth as your ancestors had: with fear and hate. 

He slumped into the leather armchair, staring at the bookcase across from him without really seeing it. He had to curb this addiction of his. He couldn’t sneak to the no-maj club just to see you anymore. Not even after a hard day. Not even under the guise of checking on the Wampus. He had to quit this. He had to quit you.


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2/6/18

“I’m not made of glass, or carrying the plague,” you laughed, pulling Credence’s hand towards your waist and tugging him closer in one move. “If you’re gonna slow dance, you can’t be afraid to get close to your partner.”

“S-sorry.” he stammered, face red but filled with concentration. You could tell he was uncomfortable, but he was fighting it. He wanted to overcome the hesitancy, and you were all to happy to help.

The new radio McNally bought played in the corner, the shades of the store windows pulled tight to give privacy as you walked him through the basic steps of a waltz. There was a lot of awkward moment of stepping on toes and calming Credence down and coaxing him to continue. But he was getting the hang of it, his expression of doubt and concentration slowly melting into a slight smile as the two of you danced in the open spaces between the shelves and bins. 

It wasn’t until the radio host announced the hour and bid a goodnight that you realized how late it was. Time really flew by when you were having fun. Your smile faded when you saw Credence pale slightly. “What’s wrong.?”

He paused, before he shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Your mom?” you guessed, and his slight flinched gave the answer. “Shit, Credence, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think.”

“I-it’s not your fault,” he insisted. “Besides, I-I had fun. It was worth it.” 

“You shouldn’t be getting in trouble for being out late. Let me come along, I’ll take the blame.” 

He shook his head firmly. “N-no, ma’am. I-I don’t want you to get in trouble.” 

“I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me,” you insisted, and yet he still shook his head. Part of you wanted to follow him regardless; to duke it out with his mother with your own maternal instinct growing. But you were scared it would push him away, that he wouldn’t take so kindly to the drag-out fight you were itching to start. And that was the last thing you wanted, and that last thing he needed.

“Alright. But swear to me, Credence,” you tilted your head so you could meet his dark eyes. “If you need anything: a shoulder to cry on, a place to crash, anything, you come find me, okay?”

There was a ghost of a smile on his face, and a warmth in his eyes as he nodded his head. “Yes ma’am.”

It didn’t help the guilt tearing at your heart as you parted ways after locking up the store, but you forced yourself to head home instead of following after.

 

***

Credence knew it was far too late, but he found himself rather apathetic to the fact. Not after an evening of dancing and laughing. He honestly never felt happier.

You were continually surprising him. First by your constant defence on his behalf. Your kindness. The fact you cared for him, and wanted him to be happy. You were so different from his Ma and his sisters. Modesty may have been warned off by Ma’s threats, but how could he stay away from you? He...he loved you. Not like his Ma thought, but you were like how he imagined a mother to be. Or maybe just an older sister, considering how close you were in years. Either way, there was nothing his Ma could say or do that would keep him away from you. Because while every harsh word and punishment caused the Beast inside of him to grow stronger, seeing you nearly every day eased the rage and the hurt. Some days, there were even moments where he could almost forget the darkness within. 

Nahuel paused at the corner across from the home of the Second Salemers, and gave Credence a dejected yowl. Credence paused and bent to give the tawny cat one last scratch as a silent thanks, both for the company home and the concern. Frequently the cat tried to get him to follow him somewhere else. A few times he had, and ended up either at the boarding house where you stayed or a rather ritzy-appearing brownstone apartment building. 

It made him believe that maybe his Ma was right, partially at least. As intelligent as Nahuel seemed, it would be easy to see him as some witch’s familiar. And maybe it was due to the darkness within, but Nahuel appeared to do his best to help him. Showing up the nights when the Beast couldn’t reach home before wearing itself out, leaving him exhausted in an unfamiliar part of the city. Or when he was struggling for control when it was unsafe to give in, Nahuel had an uncanny ability to show up and provide a quiet companionship that helped for calm the rage. 

If he was a familiar, Credence wondered if you were his witch. And that alone made him believe that if magic was real, it was a far more benevolent power than whatever his Ma believed in. 

Credence pulled himself away from Nahuel and forced himself to cross the street and enter the rickety home. Mary Lou Barebone sat at the table alone, a simple candle providing enough light as she read the well-worn bible. Her expression was an icy mask when she looked up as Credence walked in, but he knew all too well the fury boiling beneath. Rather like the one that suddenly flared in his chest just by seeing her, bubbling like seltzer water in his veins. He clenched down on the feeling, averting his gaze away from his mother and to the worn floorboards beneath his feet. 

Anymore, it just took looking at his Ma for the Beast to wake, for him to be so full of rage that it was all he could do to hold it back until he had a moment of privacy.

“You’re late, again,” Mary Lou finally broke the silence with her equally icy tone as she turned back to the thick tome, unaware of Credence’s inner struggle. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” He repeated the same four words nearly every night, and he swore she could tell that he was lying. He wasn’t sorry, not at all. Even if he did follow all of her rules, she would’ve still found a fault. She would use even the most trivial of offenses as a reason to hold out her hand, awaiting his belt. 

Except instead of silently asking for his belt, this time she simply turned a page. “Chastity says you’ve been visiting that woman again.” Her words struck like an arrow, and for a terrifying second he felt his grip on the darkness loosen in surprise and had to quickly scramble to regain control.

“She-she’s just a friend,” he stuttered, his hands clenched into fists as he tried to smother the new flare of rage and fear. She wasn’t supposed to know. He was always careful to make sure his sisters hadn’t seen him, that none of the orphans that acted as spies for Mary Lou followed him to the little corner store. Apparently he hadn’t been careful enough.

“She’s a whore.” She carefully placed the silk ribbon before closing the book with a snap. “A witch. I raised you better than that. But what can I expect, you are your father’s son.” 

“S-She ain’t. She ain’t either of those. She’s just a friend, Ma. It ain’t like that.” The unpleasant bubbling had grown into a maelstrom, the demon not just restless but now calling for blood. This anger, this rage, it was nothing like before. It didn’t just scare him, it completely terrified him. 

He may have entertained the idea of you being a witch, but to hear those words spoken with such derision was completely different. How dare she imply that you were below her, or that you were some evil creature when the opposite was true. If anything, you were the saint, and she was the demon. 

Mary Lou said nothing but held her hand out expectantly. Too lost in his thoughts, Credence only noticed when she cleared her throat expectantly. The look of anger on her face when he looked up made a promise that he would pay for his insolence. And sure enough, after handing her his belt and following her up to his small room, the sting of the belt seemed twice as severe. Which only encouraged the storm brewing within, howling for release with each strike, making him shake and tremble from trying to contain it. 

By the time the sixty-six stripes were done and the belt clattered to the floor as Mary Lou stormed out, he was shaking with restraint with both his body and soul aching. It was all he could do to stumble across the room to the tiny window, unlocking the clasp and push it open. 

Then release. Sweet, raging release. 

The maelstrom erupted, screaming into the night as it burst forth. The Beast raged against the city, desperate to make his agony known. To carve his pain and anguish into the city itself. A scar like the ones that lined his back and thighs. The power burned hot and heavy, decimating street lights, automobiles, buildings, the streets itself. It took the last ounce of his control to ensure that nothing living was harmed.

After what seemed like hours, he guided the beast back home, where Credence collapsed onto the hard bed, gasping for breath with a hoarse throat and hot tears rolling down his face. 

The demon was satisfied for the night, but Credence couldn’t help but question how long it would be before he lost all control. Before the demon tired of this never ending misery and he finally gave into the calming darkness. To lose himself in the rage forever. 

***

Graves wasn’t sure if it was too late at night or too early in the morning, but the point was he would much rather be sleeping than stuffed in the small meeting room filled with Aurors; most of them sitting around the table while a few preferred to stand, or pace the narrow space. He was about five seconds from hexing the ones wearing circles in the ground, but every sip of the strong coffee spared them a few more moments. 

“There was nothing but the usual, sir,” Tina Goldstein sighed, only a few chair down from him. She was younger and not as experienced as some of her peers around her, but Graves hadn’t seen a witch, or wizard for that matter, with as much promise. “Jones and I were right on its trail and it just...disappeared. Like it never existed.” 

Graves sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This was the worst attack to date, there has to be something we’re missing.” 

“We’ve ran every spell we can think of, but half the time the residual magic has already faded, and what’s left makes no sense.”

“We know it’s dark magic. I bet you anything it’s Grindelwald's sympathizers.”

“If it was a witch or wizard, we would be able to trace their wand.”

“Yes, but there are plenty of sympathizers in the magical communities beside wizarding folk…” 

“They have similar monitoring spells….”

The Aurors continued the same tired debate, a repeat of the last half-dozen meetings. Graves tuned them out as he studied the map of the lower Bronx, where a light burst into life. Too strong and bright to pinpoint its true position as it raced along the streets before disappearing as abrupt as it appeared. Only for the magic to loop again, tracing the same path. Seven faded lights raced along different streets, each one a previous attack. Each one larger and longer than the one before it. More destruction. Higher risk for someone to be injured. Higher chance for exposure. 

This one was the worse. Usually the destruction was confined to maybe half a mile radius, easy to excuse as gas explosion or something similar. This time it was two miles. Two miles of destroyed streets, ruined buildings. Confused and angry no-majs that were somehow unharmed, questioning the earthquake excuse even after having their memory wiped. 

Then there were the witches and wizards already panicking over the previous attacks, yelling at their congressmen for answers who in turn were looking to Picquery for results. Who was in turn was expecting him to break the case. And he knew that once they caught wind of this attack, there would be even more pressure on him and his team.

“Goldstein.” His voice instantly quieted the room and caused all Aurors look towards him for direction. Just like everyone else. It was far too early in the morning for this, he decided. 

“Yes sir?” the witch asked after a second of hesitation, her eyes wide in fear. Maybe it was unfair to pick her out of the others, but she proved to be able to think outside the box and chase down leds with dogged determination. Something he needed right now.

“The only thing we know for certain is that the abnormality is connected to the Second Salemers. I want you to follow them.”

The fear turned to surprise, and then into a mix of excitement and trepidation. “But sir, you said to avoid them at all cost.” 

He had. The Barebone family were known scourers, infamous for their tenacity and never ending hunt of witches through the generations. However… “We have no other leads, so exercise extreme caution. I don’t want even the weakest glamor spell. Nothing.”

“Sir,” Jones interrupted next, “Goldstein is good, but shouldn't a more experienced Auror handle this?” 

The indignant fire in Tina’s eyes reminded him too much of another young woman, making the ache in his heart sear with longing unexpectedly. 

“Women draw less suspicion in no-maj culture,” was his reply, as if the internal conflict wasn’t threatening to overcome all he stood for. As if he wasn’t torn to throw away everything just for the sake of one woman. “But they also have backwards ideas about women too. So for Merlin’s sake be careful.”

The Aurors accepted his instruction, and soon the room began to empty

He had been good for a week now, adhering to his self-imposed restrictions and avoiding any and everything that could remind him of you...though it did little good. There probably wasn’t an idle moment he had where some thought of you didn’t slipped in, be it simply wondering how you doing to wishing you were with him as he drifted into a fitful sleep. 

He missed being able to see the light in your eyes and the faint color in your cheeks as you smiled shyly. Or watching as your face became bright red as you rambled on, trying to save face while all he wanted to do was see if a kiss would silence you, or just fluster you more. 

While everyone was looking to him for answers, you never had. You didn’t expect anything of him. You only wanted him for him, and it had been so refreshing. 

Right now, he needed to see your smile. Even if it was a benign one not meant for him. Surely one more time couldn’t hurt. Just one last one, and then he would continue to try and ignore the ache in his chest until it went away.


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 4/6/18

Usually you didn't mind working the floor of the 90th ave club as a waitress. The outfit was a little less revealing, and it was nice not to be in the spotlight as well as being able to chat with the patrons. Even if a few tried to be handsy and you had been scolded many times about your ‘unladylike’ behavior of decking the offending customer. Though, Jake was either snickering with a few backhanded compliments when he did.

However, tonight the place was overstaffed, and you were actually quite bored. There was only so many time you could clean the few tables that were open or check on the customers without being overbearing. But you couldn’t go home. You needed the money, as meager as the pay was. You may have been stretching the truth when you told McNally you were fine financially, but you wouldn’t budge in your belief that the money accumulating in Credence’s account was firmly his. 

So instead, you were leaning against the bar, watching Jake make various virgin cocktails while occasionally slipping in a few drops of the unmarked bottle beneath the counter when someone slid him enough money. Or if the men were attractive enough and gave him a certain look. Though, he was still refusing to share it with you even after you had told him your ‘sob-story’ as he called it. If it wouldn’t have lost you your job, you would have stolen it one of the several times he got distracted by some of the pretty boys. 

“Isn’t that your beau?” the bartender asked in between orders, making you roll your eyes. The tease was getting old as he pointed out every sharp-dressed man that strolled in. Which, considering the place, was fairly frequently. However, like every other time, your eyes drifted towards the doors of the club without your consent. 

To your surprise, this time it actually was Percival standing by the doors, dressed in his usual three-piece and that long black coat you loved. Even this far away you could see the frown on his face as he looked towards the stage, almost...disappointed. 

Without a word to Jake and without really even thinking, you left the bar and quickly made your way down the rows of tables, ignoring everything as you made your way towards him. There really was a disappointed look on his face as he watched the stage expectantly. You couldn’t help but notice the dark bags beneath his eyes, or the faint lines of his face seemed to be etched deeper into his skin. 

“You look pretty rough, Mr. Graves,” you commented when you were close enough, catching him off guard.

His posture tensed slightly before he noticeably forced himself to relax as he turned towards you. The rest of the tension seemed to disappear, allowing for a hint of a real smile to appear as he gave you a quick once-over. “You look as beautiful as ever,” he admitted quietly, a warmth settling in his dark eyes. 

Your face flushed while your arms slipped around your waist as you stepped a little closer. Close enough to touch, though his hands stayed tucked in the pockets of his coat, and yours settled for tapping nervously on the beading of your dress when all you wanted to do was reach for him. Lord, how you had missed him. While he had laid to rest any worries about him hating you the last time you saw him, it hadn’t helped the ache of your heart. Not after that kiss, or how he spoke to you so tenderly. If anything it made it near impossible to forget about him, leading you many times to pause at the stoop of his apartment building before you forced yourself back home.

“I thought you said we shouldn’t…” you trailed off meaningfully. A guilty look flashed in his eyes as he glanced away briefly. 

“I know. This was foolish of me…” He suddenly growled aggravatedly as he ran a hand through his hair before shooting you an apologetic glance. “I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have came.” 

He turned to leave, and without thinking your hand shot out to grab his, making him pause. There was something in his eyes that made you afraid to let go, sure he would somehow disappear in front of you but you still allowed your hand to fall away. To your surprise as well as a small amount of hopefulness, he didn’t continue his hasty retreat but turned back towards you. Yet at the same time, the raw look in his eyes about broke your heart. Something was wrong. As happy as you were about the fact he was here, you knew you something was wrong. He had made it clear that the two of you couldn’t see each other for reasons unknown to you. So why would he risk being seen with you at such a public place? “What’s wrong?” you asked after a tense, heavy moment of silence. “I’m sure this ain’t some simple social call.” 

He chuckled rather darkly, a wry smile forming on his face as he stepped closer. “Actually, it is. In a way.” He paused again before continuing softly, as if admitting a dark secret. “...I’ve had a hell of a day and I...I just wanted to see you. But, I didn't exactly mean for you to see me.” 

“Oh,” you whispered, a piece of the puzzle falling into place. “You thought I’d be on stage tonight.” You bit your lip as he nodded, before grabbing your courage and plowing on. “Please, Mr. Graves. I know...I know that there can’t be anything between us for some god-forsaken reason,” you sighed before shaking your head, tossing that thought out the window. There would be plenty of time to ruminate over that later. “But you’re still my friend, and I worry about you.” Sometime during your words, he had taken another step closer. Your gaze was locked with his, but you felt his hand bump into yours. The touch was feather light, but it was almost a reflex for your fingers to search out his, your heart pounding as he slipped his fingers in between yours.

That had to be a good sign, right? 

“I guess what I'm trying to get at is if you need me, I’m here,” you continued. “Everyone needs someone, and I have this odd feeling you don’t have a lot of people you can turn to.” 

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this flustered. You were unable to meet his eyes, but instead kept your eyes firmly set on the dark impeccably-knotted tie resting against his chest. It wasn’t until his free fingers brushed your cheek you were able to meet his gaze. And _oh_ how you missed that warm gaze in his dark eyes, the faint hint of a smile on his lips. 

If only it wasn’t tinged with such sadness. Such regret. 

“I can’t expect that of you,” he spoke softly, although he was so close that it wasn’t hard to hear over the music. It did make it a little harder to breathe. “I can’t. It’s futile and selfish of me to string you along like that.” 

“Maybe,” you agreed, finding enough bravo to take that last step towards him, the point of your shoes tapping the toe of his. Honestly though, you didn’t notice. You were too lost in that warm gaze and the hint of a smile. Those weeks of your heart aching melting away as if they had never existed. “But maybe I’m foolish and selfish enough that I don’t really care if you string me along. Maybe I’m okay with ending up as an old spinster, as long as I can have my memories to look back on.” 

He tensed for a brief moment but quickly relaxed with a sigh, finally accepting your offer and pulling you that last bit closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. It felt all-too-right to do the same, your arms slipping around him, nestled warmly between his coat and vest. “That would be rather foolish of you,” he murmured into your ear. “You deserve better than that. Better than me.” 

“Maybe, but it’s what I want.” You allowed yourself to bask in the embrace, resting your head beneath his chin, allowing the musky scent of cologne, smoke, and that odd scent that was just him wrap around you just like the warmth. Oh, Lord, how you missed him. You could honestly just stay like this, forever, and be perfectly content. Ignore Jake and the rest of the club. Ignore the rest of the world and whatever strange reason that kept the two of you apart and just focus on the fact that right now, you _were_ together. Focus on the steady beat of his heart, the warm weight of his hands at the small of your back.

Except in reality, you couldn’t stay like that forever. All too soon you felt him pull away, though the expression on his face led you to believe he wanted to do anything but. It gave you the courage to hold on to his hand as he tried to step away. “Dance with me,” you asked, or maybe demanded. “Please,” you tacked on after a moment as he hesitated. Indecision was apparent in his eyes, and a wicked little smile sprouted on your lips as you continued: “or can the mysterious Mr. Graves not dance?” 

The tease was worth the little glimmer of challenge that replaced the reservation in his eyes. “I think the question is: can you keep up?”

You grinned as you led him to the dance floor, waving at Jake at the bar as an afterthought. He rolled his eyes and waved you off with a suppressed smile. Any thoughts of trouble about shirking work was thrown away as Graves pulled you into a quick twirl. The sudden spin made you laugh, and you were fairly sure your smile echoed his as he pulled you close, not missing a step or hesitant in the least bit in the quick tempo of the dance. 

So, yes. Apparently the mysterious Mr. Graves could dance. And not only that, he was _good_. Far better than you but his lead was steady and strong, making it easier for you than some partners. 

“You’re not going to get in trouble, are you?” he asked after a moment, his lips close enough to your ear to make you tremble slightly at his breath ghosting down your neck. 

“Mmm, doubtful. As much of a jerk he can be, Jake’s a good friend and boss. Besides, we have extra tonight. They won’t miss me.” you replied, hoping to sound steady and not like your heart was racing from just being in such a situation. Because good Lord above, it was. It was pounding as if this was your first dance, and not one of hundreds. As if you haven’t been teaching Credence dances exactly like this for the last week. 

But where dancing with Credence was full of laughter and a smidge of maternal love, there was a different undertone as you moved in tandem with him, some part of you constantly in contact with him. Especially as the quick dance melted into something slower, more intimate. You weren’t sure if he pulled you or if you bridged the gap yourself; either way you were near-flush with him as you slowed into the somber waltz. The tension that had previously wracked his body had virtually disappeared, and you...well, you were fairly sure you hadn’t felt this relaxed, this content, since before...before whatever happened that day to turn your world upside down. 

“Feeling better, Mr. Graves?” you asked quietly, well aware of his eyes on you but currently lacking the bravado to meet his gaze. Instead your eyes rested on the curve of his jaw, where you could see the ghost of stubble making its appearance. 

There was a slight pause, and you could see his jaw clench briefly only for the tension to disappear as quick as it had appeared. “Percival, please,” he murmured, making you smile against his shirt before glancing upwards. 

His eyes were warm, especially as you smiled. “Percival, then. My question still stands.” 

“Much better, thank you.” There was that warmth you loved, but sadness continued to linger as well. It made your smile waver, even as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Can I see you again, if I need to?” 

“Of course,” you answered immediately. “You-you were the one that said we shouldn’t see each other, not me. Besides,” you continued quickly, seeing guilt flash across his face once more. “I told you I would always be here for you, didn’t I?”

The slow dance slowed to a stop. At least for the two of you; the other dancers continued around you, their looks barely noticed by either of you. “You did,” he agreed, his hand untangling from yours to brush your hair back from your cheek. “Though it does make me wonder, who’s the one you turn to when you need someone?”

You flushed slightly, biting your lip unconsciously for a moment. “I don’t my life is nearly as stressful as yours. But…” an idea made you pause before you continued playfully: “out of anyone, probably Nahuel.” 

There was a paused as he blinked before allowing a true chuckle escape. “I see. I suppose that’s why he’s still mad at me.” 

“You do have a very strange cat,” you agreed, glad to hear actual humor in his voice. “But I do enjoy his visits, and yours as well.” His nose brushed yours, your foreheads pressed tightly together. Your humour died as you basked in the moment, the closeness. “I miss you,” you breathed into the small space between his lips and yours after a moment. 

“I know,” he agreed just as softly. “I miss you as well. You invade my thoughts at the oddest time and I hate it as much as I love it. No matter what, it seems like I can’t stay away.” 

“Then stop trying.” 

There was a faint huff, maybe a chuckle, but you didn’t dwell on it. Not as his lips met yours for chaste, lingering kiss. Innocent and sweet, yet it still stole your breath away. “If only,” he murmured, caressing your cheek. “I’d give anything…” He paused, his eyes meeting yours before he sighed and his hand left it’s place. “I should go.” 

You were fairly sure you wouldn’t regret whatever was tempting him, but didn’t protest as he stepped away. Though he only got about one step away before pausing, his hand catching yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Please. Be careful when you're out at night,” he added as an afterthought. “It’s getting dangerous out there.”

“You’re such a worry wart,” you argued rather weakly, hoping to delay the inevitable. But as you feared, he brought your hand to his lips in a parting gesture. 

“I worry because I… I care for you,” he admitted before leaving, and your heart pounded painfully over the way he stumbled over his words. Because surly, surly, he hadn’t almost said….

But then why had he faltered?


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> edited 4/6/18

The first night Nahuel didn’t show up, you weren’t too concerned. Half because he was an independent cat and he would usually show up before morning, and partly because your mind was still reeling from Mr. Graves, _Percival’s_ appearance and almost-confession.

But when morning came around and he still hadn’t shown up, nor was he waiting at McNally’s, you became a little concerned. But still, he was Nahuel. He could take care of himself. Maybe he had forgiven Percival for whatever he did and returned home. The thought didn’t sit well on your mind; but you weren’t sure it was out of doubt or just the idea of being alone. Your day became a little worse when Credence didn’t show up at the shop either, but he did skip days and often appeared apologetic when he came back, stumbling over his excuse about his mother being upset. So, it wasn’t out of the norm, but still made the day drag on. 

The next day, neither cat nor boy had appeared. Then a third day passed. And by day four with no sign of them, you were becoming antsy. Did something happen? Was Nahuel with Credence? Were they okay? What if that so-called mother went of the deep end and really hurt Credence? What if she saw Nahuel and hurt him? Credence had mention his mother hated cats to the point of killing them on sight. 

You dropped by the club as soon as McNally let you leave on day five, explaining to Jake you wouldn't make it to your shift later that night. 

You were gonna tear the city apart until you found your boys. 

Of course, not knowing exactly where Credence lived made it rather difficult. And New York was a large city to say the least. You combed the streets for hours, occasionally asking random strangers if they had seen either man or cat. Each one said no, but you kept pressing on, losing track of time until you heard church bells ring in midnight. It wasn’t until then you realized how long you had been out. Or the fact you were decidedly lost. Again. 

You strode on, hoping none of the few stragglers still roaming the street or hiding in alleys could tell there was a new bubble of panic building in your chest. You should have paid more attention to where you were going, but you had been desperate to find Nahuel or Credence. Unlady-like words repeated themselves in your mind as you berated yourself. You should have remembered by now the city was a maze, especially outside the small part of town you usually stayed in.

The street lights cut out without warning, plunging the street into complete darkness and snapping you out of your thoughts. A sudden gust of wind chilled you to the bone despite your jacket. The hair stood on the back of your neck; panic and fear bubbling within, threatening to overcome your senses. A screaming cry pierced the night, chilling you in quite a different way. It both terrified you and yet made your heart ache in sympathy, making you unconsciously clutch your chest. Thunder rumbled from the east, making you pause and turn. 

And then freeze. Against the pale light of the moon, you could see a dark...cloud, if you could even call it that, barreling down the street erratically, smashing into the buildings and streets, upturning cars and tossing them like toys. You flinched and cowered, expecting it to envelope you and throw you like a rag doll. There was no time to move, let alone even think about finding some sort of shelter. 

Except the pain never came. The screaming stopped suddenly, and you cautiously opened your eyes. The cloud had paused mere feet in front of you, rolling like a turbulent thunderstorm with odd streaks of thunderless lightning breaking the darkness. It was a surreal moment, and you weren't sure if you were dreaming or not. 

After a moment of just staring and nothing happening--good or bad--you cautiously took a step forward, head tilted slightly in curiosity. There was something in the cloud. Something you could barely make out. Almost...almost a form. A person curled inside the heart of the cloud. Startling white eyes looked back at you, and the form started to uncurl, a hand reaching out towards you. Out of instinct you stepped closer, your hand reaching for the ghostly fingers. 

Then someone was yelling your name, breaking the spell. Suddenly there was a familiar person standing in front of you, black coat billowing and a flash of light piercing the night. The cloud convulsed with a horrible noise; an odd mix between a shriek of fear and roar of rage as it swooped over the two of you before shooting upwards, disappearing against the black sky. 

You were still staring up in shock as Percival pocketed something before he turned towards you. “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

You blinked as you towards him, the streetlights still dark, partly obscuring his face in the shadows, though the worry etched into his face was plain to see as he cradled your face gently, searching for an answer to his question. “I-I’m fine,” you answered shakily after a moment, mind still reeling from everything. “What was that? What are you doing here?”

There was a strange popping noise down the street, but before you could look Percival had grabbed your arm and pulled you behind a nearby stoop, hiding you out of sight. There was a finger on your lips before you could even think about protesting. “Please, be quiet. Just stay here, and I’ll be right back.” You were too perplex to argue and instead slid to the ground as he left, coat billowing around him as he marched out of sight. What was going on tonight? None of this was making sense. How could someone just appear like that? What was that cloud? What about that flash of light?

The sound of shoes pounding the pavement caught your attention, causing you instinctively freeze and expect...well, you weren’t sure what, but something terrible. However, there was only a female voice calling out: “Sir! Were you able to see it? I don’t remember studying anything like that back in school.”

“Neither have I,” you heard Percival answer in a strict business tone unlike anything you had heard from him before. “Talk to the bestiary department as soon as someone is in. See if they have anything matching the description. Meanwhile clean this mess up; hopefully we can get it straightened out before the reporters catch wind.”

There was a chorus of ‘yes sir’ and almost instantly the streetlights came back to life. There was a grumble of stone and groan of steel being moved, and you wanted so badly to peek from your spot to see what was going on, but with the new light you could see Percival standing guard, his whole form tense. So, instead, you sat still as the sounds slowly faded away. Only after they disappeared completely did before Percival turn back towards you, the scowl on his face melting into a concerned look as he studied you. 

You could only stare back at him in confusion. First giant clouds that could destroy buildings with a form encased within that seemed familiar. (Good Lord, you knew them from somewhere but despite everything you couldn't place where.) Then your ‘mystery man’ had appeared out of thin air, and you swore that was literal, and chased the cloud away with a flash of light. It was all like an odd dream, but you were certain you were wide awake. 

Percival knelt in front of you and placed a hand on your bent knee, breaking you out of your confusing swirl of thoughts. His eyebrows were knitted together in worry as he searched your face. “Are you sure you're ok?”

“I...what was that?” you whispered, throat tight. Why was he here? How did he appear out of nowhere? Where did that flash of light come from? Had he been hunting that...whatever it was? How? Why?

The concern faded as a hard look developed in his eyes. “I...can’t say. Damn it,” he suddenly cursed, his hand gripping your slacks tightly. “Why? Why did you have to be out here tonight? Of all nights and of all places?”

“I-I was looking for Nahuel and Credence,” you tried to explain, though you were fairly sure he was being rhetorical. “I haven't seen them for days, but…” Percival was silent, his head bowed, but the hand clutching your knee was verging on painful. “Percival?” you spoke after a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“You weren't...damnit! You weren't supposed to become involved. I wanted…” he sighed as he shook his head, still not meeting your gaze. “Well, I guess it doesn't matter now.”

You shifted so you were on your knees, a hand placed on his cheek so you could look into his eyes. He looked so absolutely devastated as he reluctantly met your eyes. “You know you rarely make any sense, right?” you tried to joke, but didn't even get a twitch of a smile in return. “Look, I dont have the faintest idea what is going on. I really have no clue what just happened, or what I saw. You keep askin’ if I’m okay, but what about you? Are you okay?”

There was a shocked look that flashed across his face before he shook his head, a sardonic laugh escaping into the night. Before you knew what was happening, he was leaning against you, his forehead pressed against yours, noses brushing, and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. You only hesitated for a moment before lightly touching his cheek, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips. “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s going to be okay.” 

He took a breath a pulled back, a hard look in his eye as he cupped your face. “You saw nothing, do you understand? You can’t talk about any of this. Don’t say a word of it to anyone. It. Never. Happened.” The look in his eyes sent a little jolt of fear to your heart, making you swallow as you nodded your head. “No, I need to hear you say it. Please.” 

“I-I didn’t see anything,” you whispered. “I promise.”

He let out a sigh of relief, but only relaxed slightly and was still tense as a spring. “Good girl. Now, c’mon. Let’s get you home.” He helped you up to your feet, his hand tightly entwined with yours and tugging along behind him. You tried to keep up with his fast stride, but his legs were far longer than yours, forcing you to all but jog for a few moments before you gave in. You tugged on his hand slightly, silently asking him to slow down. The look on his face was enough of an apology as he purposely slowed his walk to a more comfortable pace, falling in place beside you. 

“So, you really are one of those government spooks,” you spoke after another long moment of silence, trying to keep from blurting out the questions that filled your mind. Like how the street that had been ruined now looked in pristine condition. Streetlights that had been broken like twigs barely had a scratch in their posts. Cars that had been tossed like toys sat on the street, looking like they had just rolled off the production line.

His hand somehow tightened even more before he answered: “Something like that. But I’m serious, you can’t breathe a word about this to anyone. Otherwise...well, we’d both regret it.”

You paused before nudging your shoulder against his arm lightly, offering a smile when he looked down at you. “Talk about what? You found me lost in the city, yet again, and walked me home like a proper gentleman. I do wonder what I would do without a friend like you, Mr. Graves.”

He stopped suddenly, his hand pulling you close to him, allowing him to study your face in the street lights. His free hand caressed your cheek lightly, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “I think the better question is what would I do without you?” he muttered quietly before leaning down for a kiss, which you happily complied with. Once more it was laced with desperation on his part, his hands tangling in your hair as he kissed you roughly, though this time you tried to match him with reassurance. Slowly the harshness faded, though he still held you tight. You didn’t part until either of you could last without another breath. 

Even then, Percival seemed reluctant to leave you untouched, he lipps trailing kiss along your jaw while whispering. “How did you become so important?” he muttered against your cheek. “How did someone like you come to mean everything to me?” 

“I’m not,” you whispered, your mind barely coherent enough to string those words together. “I’m really not.”

“You are.” He pulled back enough so you could see the warm brown of his eyes. “You don’t realize how important you are to me. Gods, I am going against everything I was ever taught for you.”

His admission and the look in his eyes struck at your heart. The fierce yet desperate expression on his face as he searched your eyes made your gut roll with realization that he was scared. Percival Graves, your mystery man that never seemed worried about anything, was terrified. For you. “I promise, I won’t say anything,” you whispered. “I swear it, Percival. Your secret is safe with me.”

He relaxed a little at that, a faint twitch of a smile forming on his lips. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, making your heart skip a beat. “Thank you.”

***

It was late in the afternoon the following day when the bell above the door jingled as Credence stepped through the shop door, looking far paler than usual. He gripped tightly at the hat in his hands, his eyes darting around from beneath his bangs looking as nervous as the first day you met.

You barely noted the expression as you bolted around the counter, too relieved to care about anything other than the fact he was there, in one piece and with no obvious bruises or injuries. “Oh thank heaven!” You didn’t see the fearful look that flashed in his eyes before you plowed into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Where in God’s green earth have you been! I’ve been worried sick!” 

You were about to pull back to check him over for any bruise or other tell-tale mark, just to make sure your first assumption was true, only for him to wrap his arms tightly around your waist, hat forgotten as it fell to the floor. His shoulders shook with suppressed sobs as he clung to you, face buried against your shoulder. “Oh honey,” you soothed, holding onto him just as tight. “My poor boy, it’s okay. I promise, it’ll be okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped against your shoulder, his words muffled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I ain't mad, just worried.” Guilt tugged at your heart. You really should have been more careful and remembered how fragile he was. You pushed that away as the two of you sank to the floor, curled tightly against each other. It was probably an odd scene to witness, with you sitting on the floor of the store and Credence curled on your lap as if he was only half his age. Through the glass door, you could see people stare as they passed, but ignored them as you tried to rock him gently like one would a child. 

“I almost...It almost….” He clutched tighter, shaking once more. You caught McNally's eye from across the room as he came out of his office after your screech, the gruff man looking as worried as you felt as he realized what was going on. It wasn’t the first time Credence came to you for comfort, but it had never been this bad. Usually there were a few tears, a tight hug, and then he usually would follow you around like a lost puppy for most of the day. Not a complete breakdown like this, all dignity virtually tossed aside in lieu of comfort. 

“I can’t lose you,” you heard him whisper in such a way it utterly broke your heart. “I can’t. I don’t want to ever lose you.”

What did that poor-excuse for a mother do this time?

“You’re never gonna lose me, Credence.” you soothed, pressing a kiss to his head. “You're stuck with me. I promise ya, ain’t nothing gonna chase me away.” More and more people were pausing outside to gander at the odd scene, and you couldn’t exactly ignore them any more. And snarling at them wasn’t exactly an option either despite being your first instinct. “How about we leave McNally to watch the front and we’ll go find us something good to eat? I’ll even make some hot chocolate for you. That’ll put some color in your cheeks.”

Credence reluctantly pulled away, but kept a firm grip on your hand as he helped you up before you guided him towards the back room. McNally only nodded as you passed, taking your place without a comment. You had known he had been slowly developing a soft spot for Credence as well over the past few weeks, and this only proved it.

Granted, you were fairly sure that only the most hard-hearted of people wouldn’t fall for the boy if they had a chance to know him. Which, to you, only made the actions of his mother even more inexcusable.

Once you reached the poor-excuse for a break room, it obviously pained Credence to let go of your hand, but he still forced himself to sit on one of the hard chairs while you stroked the small iron stove to life. You gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder before grabbing the needed supplies to make a decent sandwich and a few cups of hot chocolate. 

“So, I want you to know, you don’t have to say anything you don’t wanna,” you said, filling silence that had a heavy feel to it. Leave it to you to ramble, but hopefully the familiarity would help him. “But, if you ever wanna talk, or even need a place to crash, you come and find me. I don’t care what hour of the day, I don’t care what day it is. You come and find me, okay?” 

You looked back at him, offering a smile that quickly faded as you studied him. He still looked so haunted as he sat on the wooden chair, so tense he looked like a spring ready to snap as he stared down at the worn table. “You're okay, Credence. You're safe here, I promise.” He looked up, meeting your eyes but stayed quiet. Even after you continued working, you could feel his eyes following you around the small space. “Nahuel has been missing the last few days too. Was he with you?”

“Yeah,” he answered quietly, but you still counted it as a victory.

“Well, I’m glad then. He’s a good cat, if a bit odd.” You sat the sandwiches and hot chocolate on the table before taking the seat next to him. “He really seems to care for you, just like the rest of us.”

“Ma got upset at him,” Credence whispered, his hands cupping his mug. “She hates cats, thinks they’re evil. But...I needed him. It hurt, it just hurt so much.”

As much as you wanted to press, you knew it would only risk him clamping up, and end with the murder of his mother. You bit your lip for a moment to quell the rage and continue in the same calm voice: “Well then, I’m especially glad he was with you. And Nahuel obviously thought you were worth whatever your Ma dished out.” You secretly hoped the cat bit her, or at least scratched her. But even if he was just an annoyance to her, it would be something to rejoice about. 

There was a moment of silence, and you took a moment to silently cheer as he took a drink, some of the tension easing from his bony frame. “Are you...are you okay?” he asked after a moment, cautiously meeting your eyes. “You...you're not hurt, are you?”

The question threw you for a loop, and automatically you thought back to last night to the black cloud with the ghostly figure reaching out...but there was no way he would know about that. And you had sworn to Percival to stay silent. “I’m fine,” you answered with a smile. “Just worried to death, but no harm done. And no hard feelings, okay?”

The rest of his tension eased, making your smile widen. It may only be a small victory, but he was here. He was safe. And that was enough for you right now.

***

The next morning Nahuel was sitting on your chest when you woke, his golden eyes piercing as they met yours. Apparently he was no worse for wear despite Credence’s worries. “About time you showed up,” you grouched, still only half awake as you blearily met his sharp gaze. “Where the hell have you been?”

The piercing look faded as he began to purr and headbutted your hand. “Oh, mister lovey dovey huh? Hoping to get outta trouble?” You smiled as you gave in and scratched his head. “Thank you though, for keeping an eye on Credence. At least one of us could.”

Nahuel paused, opening an eye as he purred against your hand. “You two had me scared to death. Nevermind the other night…” you trailed off, your stomach twisting slightly. That night seemed like a bad nightmare that wouldn’t fade away. The ghastly cloud, that screaming cry. Percival appearing out of nowhere with a flash of light…him all but begging you to keep silent about the whole incident.

For some reason, your eyes drifted towards your vanity, where you had pinned one of Credence’s flyers that you had doodled a rather decent impression of a cat, or at least a good impression for you. But your focus wasn’t on your poor attempt at art. Instead, it was drawn to the bold printed letters.

_** Witches are among us. ** _


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magic couldn't be real, could it? 
> 
> That question is tucked away (mostly) and more fluff happens. 
> 
> You really need your own place.
> 
> edited 4/6/18

Magic.

It was preposterous. Magic belonged in fairy tales and superstitions. Not in modern-day life, and definitely not New York of all places. How many time had you scoffed at the notion, even if you had entertained the idea briefly when those ‘gas explosions’ started. 

What if they were all that black cloud? 

Was that why Percival became distant?

No. No, no, _no_. That was impossible. Percival Graves was not a witch...or a warlock or whatever a male-witch was. He was...he was a government spook. Chasing down weird clouds and appearing out of nowhere with a flash of light.

Ugh, this was giving you a headache. Even the hustle of customers passing in and out of the shop, fawning over Nahuel while they shopped or striking up idle chatter as you rang-up their groceries didn’t distract you for very long from your thoughts. 

Was it possible? Was the Second Salemers right? Did magic exist?

Even the thought that Mary Lou Barebone was right about something made your stomach turn. Even if magic was real, you were already sure it was not as evil as she made it out to be. Because there was no way Percival was evil or a devil worshipper or anything of the like. He was...he was….

Well, he was Percival Graves. The man you were currently falling for, if not totally enamoured with. If, _IF_ , magic was real, and he was somehow involved, he was still a far better person than the Mary Lou. 

“Do you believe your Ma?” you blurted out later, when there was a long lull in between customers. Credence froze for a moment, hands clenching at a bag of sugar he had been restocking. “I mean, that magic is...ya know, real.”

“I, uh, well, I…” he stammered for a moment, clenching and unclenching his hands after the sugar was in its proper place. “I don’t….I dunno. Maybe. But...if it is… I dunno if it’s...bad.” He glanced up rather nervously at you. “Do you?”

You ran a hand through your hair with a sigh. “Honestly boyo, I’m not sure.”

A few more customers came in shortly after that, giving you a momentary distraction from the idea, though you could feel Credence watching you carefully. Was that a sore subject for him? You hoped you hadn’t upset him by asking, but he didn’t seem anxious or scared. Just...curious. As if trying to figure something out himself. 

When did your life become so complicated? 

***

You had become so used to Nahuel jumping up the fire escape once you both reached the boarding house after work that it confused you when he continued on until he reached the street corner. Like old times, he yowled when you didn’t follow, which spurred you to move. For a moment you wondered where he was leading you as he trotted down the sidewalk, tail high in the air, before you realized it really _was_ like old times. And despite everything between you and Percival, there was a knot of anxiety as you followed the cat up the stairs of the brownstone apartments. Everything from the night earlier in the week was still turning in your mind, that silly notion of magic still lingering on. 

Especially as you looked closer at Nahuel. He had a very exotic look to him. Heck, everything about him was strange...and for that manner, everything about Percival Graves was unusual as well. It had to be the only reason why you couldn’t kill that absurd thought.

Magic. In twentieth century New York. You had to be going insane, right?

There was something nostalgic about knocking the brass knocker, and the pleasantly surprised look on Percival’s face when his answered, looking every bit of someone just got home. His hair was messed slightly, coat gone and vest undone while his sleeves were rolled up past his elbows. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you felt your face flush as you greedily drank in the sight. Any previous worries vanished along with coherent thought for a long moment until he spoke your name, snapping you back to reality. 

“Oh my lord, I am so sorry!” you gushed, covering your face in shame as you realized what you had done. Openly ogling the man like he was a particularly tall, cold glass of water. “I am so, so, sorry. It’s--it’s been a long day and I’m tired and I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry Mr. Graves. Oh good lord just kill me now.”

Percival chuckled warmly, gently wrapping his hands around your wrists and pulling your hands from your face. “Shh, it’s okay.” He smiled as you peeked up at him. “I’m flattered, really. But call me Percival. Everyone else calls me Mr. Graves, I don’t want you to be one of them.”

It turned out that your face could burn brighter as your heart tried to outpace itself. “I’m sorry,” you whispered again, not sure what you were exactly apologizing for this time, but felt like it needed to be said.

“I’m not,” he answered with a rough voice, and a vague part of you wondered when he had gotten so close. But then your noses were brushing, and eyes closing as your lips met in a soft kiss. Your mind was peacefully blank once more, too lost in the feel of his slightly-chapped lips against your own. There was a small moment of content silence as you pulled away, and you were unsure why you had ever felt any kind of trepidation coming here. The kiss was slow and lazy, his hands dropping to wrap around your waist while your own snaked around his shoulders, playing with the loose strands of hair you found there.

“Hi,” you finally whispered afterwards, breaking the silence as you finally opened your eyes. 

There was a soft smile on his face as he met your gaze, his thumb caressing your cheek mindlessly. “Hi.”

There was another pause of silence as you just sort of basked in the moment, forgetting about nearly everything else until Nahuel gave one of his odd chirps. He brushed against your legs, then twisted to do the same against Percival’s before finally entering the apartment. 

You watched him disappear around the corner of the door before looking back up to Percival. “So, um, busy day at work?” 

You regretted your words as his smile faltered, his hands falling from your waist to the pockets of his slacks. “Something like that,” he agreed with a sigh. Obviously, there was a long story there, but he quickly changed the topic: “I see Nahuel turned up. How’s Credence?”

Your own smile faltered as you remembered the boy’s return yesterday. Even today he had followed you like a puppy from the moment he turned up until he unhappily dragged himself home. “I’m gonna kill that mother of his. But I...” you sighed, tugging at your hair slightly out of nerves. “I wish I could do something more than just comfort him. Convince him to leave, to take care of himself, make him understand he doesn’t owe that woman a single damn thing. Something.”

He reached for your hand fiddling at your hair, pulling it away and twining his fingers with yours. “You’re doing more for him than anyone ever has just by being there. I’m sure that you caring for him means so much to him. Don’t give up.”

“Do you know him?” you asked without thinking. But really, it had been a question brewing in the back of your mind for a long time. “A lot of the time you talk as if you know him, but I’ve never seen ya around, and he don’t seem to know you.”

Percival’s frown returned with a wince, which was more than an answer than anything. “It's...complicated.”  
“Complicated?” You really wanted to press, to know more about him, and maybe Credence. But...“No, I don't want to know. I know you have your secrets and probably for good reason. I don't want to risk losing you just for the sake of my curiosity.”  
Your answer seemed to surprise him, and an honest smile spread across his face while his hand squeezing yours slightly. He glanced back into his apartment, where all you could see bookcases full of thick tomes, along with a writing desk topped with thick files and Nahuel laying on the papers. He looked back to you, a daring look in his dark eyes. “Do you want to go get a drink?”  
Your face felt warm once more, the question shocking you for a moment. Out of everything he could have said, that was one you least expected. Especially after how much he had made it clear there couldn’t be anything between the two of you. You were a heartbeat away from excitedly proclaiming _of course_ before reality caught up with you. “Everywhere is closed,” you pointed out rather gloomily. “Except maybe a few speakeasies.”  
“I know a place,” he offered, seemingly unbothered by the fact. “They have rather decent menu as well. My treat, of course.”  
Was this real? Please, you prayed, let this be real and not just a dream. “Does that mean you’ve given up trying to stay away?” you asked with a hopeful tease, though in reality you felt like begging. You weren’t sure exactly what it was about this man, but you absolutely adored him, and every minute you were with him was worth its weight in gold.   
“I’ll be honest, you terrified me the other night.” His easy smile faded away as he reached up and brushed your cheek once more. “The thought of losing you…. You’re worth the risk. I want this, I want _you_ , for as long as you will have me.”

Your heart was caught in your throat as you leaned into his hand, twining your fingers with his to press even closer. “You might be careful for what you wish for, Percival. I’m awfully stubborn, I might just try to keep you forever.”

“Merlin if only,” he murmured, and before you could even think to question the odd choice of words, he kissed you briefly, though earnestly enough to make your toes curl and your mind blank. “Let me grab a coat, I’ll be right back.”

He closed the door behind him and you waited with an ancy heart in the hall, eyes studying the door across the hall without really seeing. Your mind was a complete whirlwind. Of all the possible situations that had crossed your mind while following Nahuel, this had not been one. Honestly, it seemed too good to be true. It felt like one of those dreams where you were so happy, and as soon as you woke the happiness disappeared, leaving behind an ache that lasted for days. 

Before you could begin to doubt reality, Percival reappeared with his coat in place and the buttons of his vest redone. His hair was still a bit on the messy side, and oddly you rather liked it like that. He noticed your slight stare and smirked before offering his arm. “Shall we?”

***

The speakeasies you had visited since moving to New York had been on the sketchy side. Usually louded with smoke, packed with obscene drunkards, and serving moonshine that could probably be used as gasoline. Or maybe it had been gasoline laced with alcohol. Either way, it never failed to leave you sick the next day with a pounding headache and a sour stomach. You always swore you would never do it again, but would inevitably return after a week or so. 

None of them could ever be compared to this. Tucked in a nondescript small alley and behind the stereotypical metal door, the speakeasy was more like a hidden ritzy restaurant. The bar was the main centerpiece, the back wall lined with dozens of different liquors. Most of the people sat at the bar, nursing a drink, while only a few resided at one of the small tables or the darkened booths lining the outer walls. There was a live band, playing some slow jazz that mixed the soft glow of the kerosene lamps and the faint scent of cigar smoke. At first you were a little worried you would be underdressed; after all you were still wearing your work dress and flats, but thankfully everyone else were in work clothes except for a few. 

A few of the patrons recognized Percival, giving him a nod before noticing your arm linked with his. Their eyes became wide as they looked up at you until a dark look for Percival had them returning their focus on their drinks without a word. You filed that little tidbit away, adding the small piece to the puzzle that was Percival Graves. 

You had barely taken a seat at one of the secluded booths when a pale blonde woman approached the table, dressed in a stylish flapper dress and a painted wide smile on her face. “Well, that is a surprise,” she greeted as Percival tensed slightly. “I knew you have been distracted lately Director Graves, but I didn’t imagine it was a lady. And a pretty one one at that. My name is Queenie, honey,” she offered a hand to you without missing a beat. Your gut turned as you accepted her hand. Who were you compared to a woman like her, looking like she just stepped off the broadway stage.

The smile on her lips shifted into something warmer, more personable. “Oh, don’t worry. I just know the Director from work.”

You flushed as you shook her hand, embarrassed that your insecurity had apparently been that obvious. You offered your name in return, quite aware Percival continued to look...tense. Extremely tense in fact, sitting ramrod straight in the booth, lips pressed together as he stayed silent, making you worry as well as a little curious.

Queenie seemed to understand as she shifted her attention to him. “Don’t worry sir. I’m not going to tattle.” She offered a friendly wink, apparently knowing the cause behind the frown on his face. “You deserve some happiness.”

Some of the stress in his shoulders eased, though you weren’t convinced that he was reassured at all as he adjusted in his seat. “Your discretion is greatly appreciated, Miss Goldstein. I...didn’t expect you of all people to be here.” 

Queenie shrugged her bare shoulders lightly. “Well, Tina is still out on that secret mission of hers, and this is one of the few places I’m not likely to run into many coworkers, you know.” She glanced at you with a smile, and you had an odd feeling you were missing something rather important. Her smile softened as she patted your shoulder reassuringly. “You must be pretty special, honey. I think we all believed mister director here was married to his work, celibate, or...well, you know.”

It was actually kinda funny watching Percival turn rather red with an embarrassed groan. “Miss Goldstein…”

“I’m sorry!” She pressed her hands to her lips, trying in vain to hide a smile. “I’m just happy to see you happy, sir! And you two are so in love, it’s just adorable.” She grinned and you were fairly certain you were the same red as her dress, but also amused when you saw a faint blush cross Percival's face. Your gaze met his and the small smile on his face seemed to be unconscious on his part. Queenie made a very odd noise as she clapped her hands. “Right! I should be off, Tina should be home soon. And don’t worry Director Graves, my lips are sealed.”

You weren’t aware that eyes could actually twinkle until you saw Queenie smiling widely before leaving. It was uncanny how she could read you like an open book. Were you really that obvious? You pushed that thought aside and focused on the fact you had met one of his coworkers. Another little piece to the puzzle. “Director? You must be real high class then.” You grinned at the almost-pout on his face. “Really makes me wonder what your doing with little old me.”

He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it some more and lighting a fire in the pit of your stomach. “...It’s complicated,” he said for the second time that night before trying to change the topic. “But don’t belittle yourself. If anything, you’re too good for me.”

“Hogwash and you know it,” you shot back with a smile just as the waiter appeared. It wasn’t long before your suspicions were proven right and this place was a whole different caliber than your usual dives. The drinks were the best you had since, well, ever. Smooth with the right blend of sweetness and bite. And the food was amazing, though any kind of food was better than what was waiting for you back at the boarding house. 

You were just starting to feel a buzz when you boldly traded your seat for the one next to Percival. He didn’t hesitate before putting his arm around you, pulling you close to his side, his hand intertwining with his as he relaxed as well. One bourbon later and he was telling you stories about being a director, though you could tell they were edited as he would catch himself sometimes. 

When he did, you would just smile as he frowned and offered a tight squeeze to let him know you understood and didn’t mind. You were just happy to have _this._ Even if it never happened again, you were confident you would never forget this moment. Because seeing him smile, being able to hear him laugh over some prank his subordinates had pulled on each other. It was more intoxicating than the Brandy Alexander you had finished off. It made you yearn for more, and you tried to ignore the pain that came with it. 

Even though both of you seemed to want it, you knew this wouldn’t be a typical relationship. Hell, you weren't even sure if this was going to be a real relationship and not just a one-time impulsive date. There was no use in dreaming about seeing him come completely undone, or a day where he could fully relax and not have to filter his words. For some unknown reason that you had already promised not to push, he couldn’t. And you had to respect that. 

So instead, you curled closer to him, drinking the last of your drink and boldly stealing a few of his fries with a grin at his raised brow. You shared your own stories, getting snorts of laughter and becoming lost in the warmth of his eyes when your gaze met his. 

Honestly, you weren’t a hundred percent sure you weren’t dreaming the entire time. Because finally being able to talk more than a few stolen moments after walking Nahuel home had you falling head over heels in a way you could have never had anticipated. Sometimes, when you were able to get to know someone better you were disappointed by reality. And you had put Percival on a virtual pedestal, and he was still beating your expectations of him. 

Last call was finally announced somewhere around one, finally prompting the two of you to move from your secluded little piece of heaven. The night air had a nip to it, but wasn’t anything you were bothered by. Except only a second after emerging from the hidden bar, you had Percival’s coat tucked around your shoulders. 

“It’s not really that chilly,” you defended, but at the same drew the warm wool coat tighter, trying to memorize the faint smell of it. 

“Probably not, no,” he admitted as he took your arm again. “But you look too adorable in my coat.”

You flushed as you leaned into him, a smile stretching across your lips as you walked together in companionable silence. New York, for once, seemed peaceful, and you had no nagging fear that usually occupied the back of your mind when walking through the city at night. You really didn’t want the night to end, but you also knew you had another long day ahead of you already. 

Eventually the boarding house came into view. You were never excited to see the drab building, but tonight it really filled you with dread. “I really should say thank you,” you sighed, trying to stall for time as you neared the stairs that lead to the front door. “I...really enjoyed spending time with you.” 

You wanted so badly to add your hope to repeat the experience soon, but even with the buzz you were able to suppress the urge. Your worries were erased as he grabbed your hand, keeping you from leaving. There was a warm light in his dark eyes as he looked down at you. “Maybe I can entertain you again sometime?” he asked, pressing a lingering kiss to your hand

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, heart skipping a beat. “I would-I would love that.”

Your reaction earned a chuckle from him, making you flush. You bit your lip, a daring thought crossing your mind. Enough liquid courage was still flowing through your veins, embolding you to step forward and pressing a kiss on lips. It was just a soft, chaste kiss, but no sooner has your lips left his, he captured yours again. His hands found a place in your hair as you found a place pressed against him and the stone wall. It was a minor discomfort, easily bearable between his coat and his tongue teasing your lips.

Oh good lord, did it feel like heaven. You were fairly sure proper ladies did not do this, but you couldn’t really care less. Not from the feeling invoked when your tongue hesitantly touched his when he coaxed your mouth open. Or the answering shift of his hips against yours from the small noises escaping your throat.

Really, really could not care less. Not even when when he turned his attention from your lips to your neck, ranging from soft kisses to light nips, and a sharp suck that verged from pleasure to pain. Your breath was already coming in slight gasps before his hands left your hair. He used one arm to brace him against the stone, while the other slipped between his coat and your dress, fingers trailing slowly upwards along the curve of your waist before his hand cupped your breast, squeezing softly.

“Percival,” you gasped, both a whine and a plead. For what, you weren’t sure if you could admit to, even to yourself.

“I love it when you say my name,” he whispered huskily as his kissed the edge of your ear. You hadn’t been aware such a simple action, such simple words, could evoke the tremor of goosebumps racing across your body.

“Percival,” you repeated lowly. There was a heady look in his dark eyes as he pulled back to meet your gaze. It was a very dangerous, raw look with a forbidden question you wanted to answer. You went as far as smiling before kissing him slowly, daringly teasing his lip between your teeth for a moment that earned a growl from him.

Then damn Mrs. Shapiro was screeching your name. The porchlight flared to life and the old biddy was sticking her head out the front door. And once she saw your position, you were sure the whole neighborhood knew your name.

Well, shit. 

“I need a new place,” you groaned in embarrassment, pressing your face against his shoulder as she ranted, most of which you tuned out, having heard it a dozen times before when you were late returning from the club, which she highly disapproved of in the first place. Though usually she didn’t lecture at that volume and pitch. “She is worse than my mother, I swear.”

“Are you listening to me?! I made it quite clear this is not a whore house!” she continued. “You are not bringing any men into this establishment!”

“Far, far worse than my mother,” you repeated. Actually, your mother would be torn between demanding a formal introduction and asking when she would finally have her grandchildren. There was a very faint smile on Percival’s face, though he looked more concerned than anything. You forced a smile back, slipping his coat off your shoulders and handing it back. “Thank you again, Percival. I had a wonderful night.”

“It was my pleasure,” he reassured with another kiss to your hand, the way he virtually purred your name sent your stomach rolling in a quite unexpected way. “Good night.”

“Goodnight,” you repeated, watching him walk down the street until Shapiro snapped once more. You turned, all pleasantness gone as your roared back “For the last time, it’s not like that!” 

You really, really needed a new place.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves has a chat with Queenie, and you have an awkward talk with Credence. Neither go exactly as planned.
> 
> edited 4/6/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. It's more like a part two to Chapter 14. 16 is going to be longer, and I plan on having it up at the end of the week.

“Miss Goldstein, come with me.” 

The constant chatter of the MACUSA’s main floor quieted by a few decibels as dozens of heads turned to watch Queenie follow Director Graves. Some took the gentle smile on the witch’s face as a sign that whatever the director had in store for her wasn’t too horrible. But others argued the exact opposite was true, judging by from the dark expression his face. After all, Graves was never known to take someone in private without delivering a thorough ass-ripping. 

So, of course, the quiet whispers exploded as soon as the two disappeared down the elevator, with rumors ranging from Queenie being fired to the two having a scandalous relationship behind closed doors.

Neither, of course, were true, and Queenie laughed quietly to herself as she heard them in her mind as she passed. They would be even more scandalized if they knew the truth. “You really don’t need to worry, sir,” Queenie assured as she took the chair in front of his desk, a quick motion of her wand summoning a tray of fresh coffee for both of them out of habit more than anything. “I told you, my lips are sealed.”

“And I’ve told you not to use legilimency on me or any of my Aurors, especially at work.” There was no real bite in his tone, he understood that sometimes she couldn’t help it. It was like trying not to hear someone talking when they were standing right next to you; virtually impossible.

There was an amused smile on her face as she stirred some cream into her cup. “No offense sir, but I don’t need need legilimency to know what you’re thinking. Besides, this isn’t the first time I accidentally found out about somebody’s no-maj beau. Granted, you are the last person I expected.” 

He froze for a moment, mouth opening for a moment before he snapped it shut and shook his head. “Do I really want to know?” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. 

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people have a fling with no-maj’s,” she stated cheerfully. “Usually we keep quiet unless they let it slip they’re showing magic. Then one of us will tattle.” 

“What do you mean, us?” The admission made his frown deepen. It was one thing if Queenie knew about the illicit relationships, but multiple people? 

“Us girls that some people forget we’re even in the room while they brag to their friends. Or they forget we have actual jobs and we’re not here to do their errands.” There was a bite to her tone now, her blue eyes hard for once as she glared down at her cup before realizing what she was doing. In a flash her expression changed back to her usual cheery personality. “Us secretaries know everything, don't cha know.” 

The frown on his face didn’t budge despite her smile. “Queenie, if anyone is bothering you or any of the girls, you tell me. Especially if it’s Abernathy.” While the no-maj’s may still believe such behavior was acceptable, he wouldn’t stand for it. He knew Abernathy was a bit of a worm, pestering nearly witch that walked by him. Picquery was slow to fire or rebuke him on just gossip, as well as the fact that there was no one they could put in his place. No one _wanted_ that job.

So instead he had been keeping an eye on the supervisor of the Wand Permit department, just waiting for a chance to put him in his place.

“If he gets too bad, I will,” Queenie answered cryptically. “But I’ve been dealing with it.” She fiddled her wand mindlessly, and the look in her eye reassured him that Abernathy as well as the others pests got what the deserved.

After a moment, her smile changed into something less force as she looked back up at him and changed the subject quickly. “She’s a cutie, your gal. I really didn’t mean to intrude, but the happiness that was flowing from you two distracted me. Granted, no-maj’s are easy to read anyways, but I could tell she really adores you, sir.”

Even though he didn’t have any doubts how you felt, the reassurance still warmed his heart. Last night...Merlin there were no words to describe it. He had been so worn out, that your surprise visit had been a godsend. Then that blush on your face after raking your eyes over him with a small smile...well, there had been no way he could resist the temptation. 

And damn, that kiss. Having you pinned beneath him again, gasping with those little sounds of pleasure and unconsciously rubbing against him about drove him insane. When your landlady had interrupted, it took all his willpower not to just apparate you home, to his bed. Where he could see how loud he could make you scream his name. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said that incident with the the beast (no one had any idea what it could be, not even looking through their memories could any of the magizoologists identify it) terrified him. He had been so sure he was going to see you die and not be able to do a single thing to stop it. He didn’t even think before he apparated in front of you, scaring the thing off with the first spell that came to mind. Then Jones and Goldstein appeared, and he was sure that was it. He would have to obliviate you then and there to save himself and you. Except by some small miracle, they didn’t see you and you hadn’t seen them. 

He was no expert legilimens like Queenie, but he had pressed gently into your mind to assure you were actually okay afterwards and not just in shock. You had been confused, scared, and then worried. Not concerned about yourself, but worried for him. You had faced down something you couldn’t understand, and instead of panicking, you worried about him. It still stunned him. He had become so accustomed to having to shoulder everything with a steel resolve. His Aurors and everyone relied on him. He had long ago accepted that he would be the only person to really worry about himself after his parents passed.

And then you waltzed in and turned everything upside down. Here he was, Director of Magical Security and you, a no-maj, had wrapped him around your small finger. 

“Mr. Graves,” Queenie broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to reality. Her smile had shifted to a slight frown as she studied him. “You know I care for you. You’ve always been good to us girls, and Tina says you really care for her and the other Aurors.” She paused as she thought over her words before sighing, “You know...you know things like this never end well, right?” 

“I know,” he confirmed, his frown deepening as he ran a hand through his hair. Merlin did he know this wasn’t going to end well. “I know I’m being extremely idiotic but….” He’s never been in love before, not like this. And he was becoming more and more convinced you were worth any future heartache. 

“That’s what love does,” she confirmed with a gentle smile. And was it really that obvious, he wondered, because he was sure his occlumency was up to parr. “If love doesn’t make you do silly things...well, it’s not really love.” 

***

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the woman who said you didn’t want a man?” McNally grinned the next morning when you shuffled in, cursing your lack of a scarf or a high collared top.

You were also cursing Percival Graves for leaving a deep purple mark on the side of your neck. 

“I don’t know what your talking about,” you grumbled, obstinately stealing from his pot of coffee. Maybe you did have one drink too many last night, though this morning was much better than most when you went out and got zozzled.

“I think you do, girly,” he laughed as the bell above the door rang. At first you were grateful for the distraction, expecting a customer but quickly realized you were wrong.

And of course Credence would notice the bruise right away, his face paling for a moment. The flash of anger that followed surprised you before it was quickly replaced by concern. “What happened?” he asked as he closed the distance quickly with those long legs of his and acted just as you did when he showed up with any kind of mark. “Who-who hurt you?”

In the background, McNally was laughing so hard you were sure he was going fall over. “I ain’t hurt, sweetie,” you tried to explain tactfully, and ended up wondering when Credence had mastered the skeptical I-know-you’re-lying look. “It’s not...it’s a hickey.” 

“A what?”

Murder. You were going to murder Percival for leaving the mark on you. Even if you thoroughly enjoyed the experience. Because while you had entertained the idea of being like a mother to Credence, you weren’t prepared for this kind of talk. 

...Oh dear. Did he even know anything about sex? Well, more than the ‘it’s bad and sinful so never do it’ you were sure his mother probably drilled into him?

Nope. That was going to be a question and possibly a discussion that was best left for another day. As in a day when you were able to get your hands on some alcohol and find a quiet, secluded, place to have The Talk.

He would probably need a drink to. Had the boy even had any alcohol yet?

“A hickey,” you explained with a fairly red face. “I got kissed...a little too hard.” 

“A hickey?” He repeated back slowly, confused, and that was when McNally did fall over with a crash, rattling everything in the store. “You...you have a boyfriend?” Thankfully, there was no hint of hurt, just...confusion. Maybe surprise. Which, okay, as much as you worked it probably was a surprise, especially since you never really talked about him.

McNally’s laugh tapered off and expectant silence descended. Even Nahuel had hopped up on the counter and was watching you curiously, as if waiting for your answer. “Well…” you started, your stomach twisting into knots. “Not...not exactly.” 

“Are you kidding me?” It a flash the mood over the store changed. McNally climbed back to his feet, his smile gone and replaced by flaring nostrils and a scowl. “Are you really that stupid, woman?”

“It’s complicated,” you defended rashly, but he was having none of it. 

His face begun to turn red as he stormed towards you, his finger shaking angrily at you. “You did exactly what your family and I warned you _not_ to do, didn’t you? Some smooth-talking joe waltzed up, called you pretty and promised the stars, didn’t he? He showed you a good time and that was it, was it?”

“No!” you growled, trying to reign in your temper for Credence’s sake even though you could feel your hackles rise, wanting to fight back. But Credence was already frozen stiff, looking like a deer ready to bolt. He didn’t need you snapping too. “It ain’t like that. Mr. Graves…”

“The hell it ain’t!” McNally barked, interrupting you harshly. Credence flinched at his tone, which only added fuel to your own growing temper. “Listen to yourself! Do you wanna know how many girls I’ve seen say the exact damn thing and ended up on the streets with a bastard kid? If your father or brothers were here they’d tan your hide and hunt down that man if they had any sense!”

“Percival isn’t like that!” Your restraint was lost as your anger overcame any sense, stepping toe to toe with the man that was easily a foot taller than you and probably twice your weight.“He cares for me, he really does! Yeah, this ain’t gonna be anything serious, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t...he can’t...we can’t…” you growled, frustrated at trying to explain something you didn't even fully grasp. Not without sounding sounding exactly like the floozy he thought you were. An odd pain stabbed at your heart and you roughly pushed it aside. After all, you had known this since the virtual beginning. He hadn’t pressed you into anything, if anything you had persisted and worn down his own defenses. “Maybe we won’t be together for long, but that is no reason we can’t be happy now. I know him, I ain't gonna get knocked up and he ain’t gonna break my heart.”

McNally glared down at you, and you readily met his stare with your own, teeth gritted together. Finally, he threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Fine! You are damn stupid, girl. I’m glad I’m not your pa, because holy hell you would be in trouble. Don't come crying to me when he kicks you to the curb.”

He turned and stormed to his office, the store rattling once more as he slammed the door shut. You were vaguely aware of the people in the streets peering through the windows as they walked by, but didn’t given them any mind. You were still gritting your teeth, fuming mad until you turned and looked back at Credence. He was so tense he was shaking, his head bowed and eyes screwed shut, hands clenched at his side. 

It was like a bullet to your heart, and you were soon cursing both yourself and McNally. You knew better. You both knew better than losing your temper in front of him. Especially a blow-out fight like that. “Oh sweetie,” you sighed, almost afraid to touch him in fear he would snap. “Credence, I’m sorry. We shouldn't've….”

“If he...if that man hurts you…” Credence whispered lowly, and you were stunned to realize he wasn’t scared. He was angry. “That Mr. Graves...if he hurts you...he’ll regret it.” 

The dark look in his eyes when he looked up sent chills down your spine. Your sweet Credence was boiling with rage. You forced a smile as you stepped closer, placing your hands over his fists to stop his trembling. “Sweetie, it’s okay. He ain’t gonna do anything to me.”

The anger faded away slowly, revealing fear. “I don’t want to see you hurt,” he admitted as his fingers slid between yours, his forehead pressed against yours. “I don’t--I don’t know if I could bear it.” 

“Percival...he’s a good man, Credence. I promise. A good enough man that if you ever need help and I can’t for some forsaken reason, you go to him, okay?” You offered a faint smile as he looked up. “After all, Nahuel technically belongs to him; it’s how we met.” 

Credence looked over to the tawny cat where he laid on the counter. Nahuel gave a small meow in agreement, jumping down and deciding to do his part in trying to comfort the boy as he rubbed up against this black slacks (oddly, not shedding against them) with a purr. That finally got a watery smile from the boy as he let go of you and picked Nahuel up. He purred loudly as he rubbed against Credence’s face, and the laugh that escaped the boy made everything worth it. 

Even though something about that dark look of his, that rolling anger just waiting for release, made you consider him in a new light. Something about that tickled in the back of your mind, bringing up the black cloud you had tried to forget about. And the form inside it. 

There was no way. Absolutely not. Credence...Credence was Credence. He wasn’t like Percival with that strange...aura, for lack of a better word, around him that made you question the impossible. 

Except for that one small moment, there had been.


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really should take better care of yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is loooong.
> 
> edited 4/6/18

You woke up a few days later to the joy of a hacking cough and a vice grip on your head.

You hated being sick.

Regardless of the fact you felt as if you had been ran over by a train, you nudged Nahuel out of bed and got up, shivering despite the warm weather. The cat regarded you carefully as you stumbled determinedly through your morning routine, before coming to whatever conclusion a cat could and gave a protesting yowl as you shuffled towards the door.

“Shhh!” you hissed, or at least tried too. It didn’t come out quite right due to your rough throat. “Ya know you ain’t supposed to be here. The last thing I need is to be out on the streets.” 

Nahuel jumped from his place on your bed and put himself between you and the door obstinately. Gold eyes stared up at you as he took a seat, virtually commanding you to get back to bed. 

Too bad you were too bullheaded to take orders from a cat, even if it was a tempting thought. “Move, I’m going to be late.” Nahuel only flicked his tail at your command, continuing to glare up at you. “I mean it. Move.”

He refused. You growled, not in the mood for his antics. Not today. You reached down and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and picked him up. Like any other cat he froze except for an undignified cry until you sat him down away from the door. “I have to work, sick or not.” You turned and barely got the door opened before Nahuel nipped at your leg, making you yelp as he dashed out the door. It wasn’t long before you heard the few girls up this early squeal downstairs, and Mrs. Shapiro screaming your name.

Could your day get worse?

***

The world answered with a resounding _yes_ with the exhaust of the cars only making you cough harder on your walk to work. By the time you reached the shop, you were sure a lung was about to come up. You were reluctant to part with your coat due to the chill still lingering, and wondered if McNally would notice if you wore it all day. 

Speaking of the devil, the middle aged man stuck his head around the corner as you debated starting the stove for warmth. “Girl, you look like hell. What are you doing here?”

“Working. It’s just a cold,” you protested before your lungs gave another shot at escaping. 

There was a scowl on his face, and not the same kind that appeared every time he caught sight of the slowly-disappearing mark on your neck. “Go home.”

“I’m fine,” you growled, brushing past him to start the morning routine of opening the shop. You could hear him cursing your name, but returned to his office. Things weren’t quite the same since your fight a few days ago. Even though you knew he was only trying to look out for you, there was still a lingering anger towards him for thinking you would be foolish enough to be beguiled by a man. 

Even though, from an outside perspective, it could be seen as that. But Percival...he wasn’t like them. 

Your mind flashed back to the black cloud. No, Mr. Graves wasn’t like other men at all. 

You were beginning to question if Credence was as simple as you thought him to be, after watching him a little more closely the last few days. You tried to chalk the idea up to not enough sleep and your active imagination, yet it lingered. Just like the idea of magic. There was just little things that didn’t quite...add up, and yet it was nothing you could really pinpoint. It was really just this odd _feeling_ sometimes. The fact that people just glanced over him when he was really feeling antisocial. 

Or this look in his eye as he studied people as they made a nuisance of themselves as they argued with you over prices and other things. Or worse, when the men tried to chat you up and didn’t get the hint. Then there was this...crackle in the air, like before a thunderstorm that had you on edge and made your unwanted suitor uneasy to the point of finally leaving. 

Surely it was just the lack of sleep getting the best of you. Or you were just going crazy. Or maybe this cold had been messing with your mind before it decided to destroy your lungs. 

The morning passed slowly with only a few people wandering in, disappointed when they noticed Nahuel wasn’t present. He was probably off somewhere pouting. Maybe bugging Percival, or keeping Credence company wherever he was. More than a few times McNally shouted at you to go home after coughing spells robbed you of your breath, but you stubbornly ignored him. Even though it wouldn’t hurt the man to mind the shop for once instead of staying holed up in his office doing who-knows-what. 

Mid-afternoon the door jingled as Credence stepped in, taking off his hat and revealing a slap-mark beginning to bruise on the side of his pale face. Your bad mood erupted with fury as you abandoned the register and stormed towards him. “What is wrong damn woman!” You raged without thinking, barely noticing Credence flinch at the harsh tone. He looked like a startled deer, too stunned to move as you inspected the injury. This was the worse thing you had seen thus far, and it made you burn. 

Or maybe that was the fever. 

“I swear, I am going to beat that Ma of your and see how she likes it,” you grumbled and didn’t miss the odd awed look on his dark eyes, as if you had just threatened to take on all the world itself. You returned it with a slight smile before your lungs decided to protest the sudden strain and released another fit, making you double over and lean heavily on Credence, who panicked while holding onto you tightly to keep you from falling.

“God damnit woman! The boy can mind the shop, go home!” McNally swore as he stepped out of the back room for the first time since this morning, his scowl deeper than you’ve seen in a long time. 

“But...!” you started to protest before another round of coughs overtook you, leaving you speechless and breathless for a few minutes. 

“Boy!” McNally snapped and Credence jumped, looking a cross between confused and afraid. “You’re gonna make sure she gets back to Mrs. Shapiro’s, got it?”

“I can take care of myself!” you protested, though still leaning on Credence to steady yourself, feeling the room wobble dangerously beneath your feet. 

“Woman, you’re gonna listen to me for once,” he growled as he shook a finger towards you. “You're gonna take a can of soup, let Credence escort you home, and you’re gonna get some rest. Understand me?” 

“I’ll go, but don’t you go dragging poor Credence into this,” you argued back weakly. “I ain’t gonna let you boss him around too.” 

Before McNally could argue, Credence interrupted softly by speaking your name. Even after all this time, he rarely ever used it. The worry in his eyes was evident as you looked up to him. “I don't mind walking you home.” 

Oh. You sighed, unable to argue with that expression on his face. There was a look of triumph on McNally's face which you pointedly ignored as you grabbed your things. The older man had already passed two cans of soup to Credence when you returned and there was a faint blush on his face as he pocketed the cans and awkwardly offered his arm. If it wasn’t for the hacking cough that overwhelmed you once more, you would've been touched. Instead, you may have leaned a little heavier on him than you meant to as you left the store.

It wasn't until you were part way home that you felt up to talking. “I haven’t seen Modesty in a while. Is she okay?” 

There was no mistaking the sudden tension in his frame as he hesitated for a moment. “Y-yeah. Ma...Ma says I’m a bad influence, so she’s been staying home with Chastity.” 

“Chastity? I didn’t know you had another sister.” 

The tension faded, only for his head to hang a little lower. “She’s the eldest. The only one of us that ain’t from somewhere else.” There was a slight pause before he continued quietly. “She used to be a lot like you. Really nice, always looking out for others. But...she changed. She don’t like me anymore, just like Ma. After a while...everyone starts to hate me.” 

“I ain’t gonna.” There was a pause as another fit knocked the wind from your lungs, making you stop in your tracks and lean on him as you desperately tried to catch your breath between coughs before you could continue. “I ain't gonna stop being your friend, so you don’t worry about that.” 

“Everyone does though,” he argued softly. “Even my real mother. She didn’t want me. Only Ma had the heart to take me in. Someday...someday you'll start hating me too, just like Modesty.” 

Without hesitation, you dragged him into a tight hug. “You put those thoughts out of your head right now, boyo,” you commanded. “I love you as if you were my own flesh and blood, and that ain’t ever gonna change.” 

He paused for a moment before his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, face pressed firmly into your shoulder. “I-I love you too,” he whispered, and you could hear tears in his voice as he held onto you. You rubbed his back mindless of the people passing around you. Had you really not told him that before? Then you wondered how often he heard those words, if he ever had from his family. The thought made your heart ache. Growing up, you had never had any doubts that your family loved you, even if you all argued with the same bullheaded determination.

You vowed to yourself you were going to say it more often to him to make up for the lack of love in his life. Even if he didn’t have anyone else, he would still have you. 

After a long moment Credence spoke again, his voice muffled by your coat. “You’re burning up.” 

“It’s just a lil’ cold,” you soothed him. “Give it a few days and it’ll be gone.” 

***

Okay, maybe this wasn’t a simple cold. 

That was rather obvious as you stumbled into the club at the end of the week, feeling worse than you had the last few days, but knowing you had to work to earn some money. Rent was due and Shapiro was literally just waiting for an excuse to throw you out. Nevermind you were still paying back that loan your family took out so you could move. Except Jake gave you one look and sent you back out the door before you could even take off your coat. 

“I’m fine,” you protested, though your voice was barely a whisper between the pain and the non stop cough. “Just let me do bookwork. Something. I need the money.” 

“No, you belong home. In bed,” he said as he pushed you out the door. 

Nahuel was still waiting by the back door, as if he knew you wouldn't be long. There was no usual purr or mew, but an ‘I-told-you-so’ look. “Oh shush,” you growled weakly as you shuffled past him. He stayed silent but quickly trotted ahead of you, taking the job of leading you home. Which, honestly, was a bit of a relief. Your mind felt muddled and it was so much easier to simply follow the tawny car and not have to pay attention to your surroundings. 

Nahuel continued to surprise you as he paused each time you had a coughing fit, and insisted more than once for you to rest when he yowled every time you shuffled past him when he stopped by a bench or a set of stairs. “Okay, maybe I should go to a doctor,” you begrudgingly admitted to him as you took a seat on a bench not even three blocks away from your last stop. Nahuel had his ears twitched back with another ‘I-told-you’ look in his gold-green eyes as he settled beside you. 

The twitch became more as he suddenly hissed, spooking you. You looked towards where he had pointed his glare, and saw the two men stumbling up from a basement stairwell. It was easy from their loud raucous laughter and the way they walked there was a speakeasy hidden below. One man paused, looking strangely at Nahuel before he noticed you. His face lit up as he attempted to smile suavely. “Well, hello there dollface.” You groaned as he nudged his buddy. This is not what you needed right now. “Hey, hey Joe, we got a dame just waiting for us. See, told ya our luck was gonna get better.”

You were sick, felt like hell, and had absolutely no patience or interest in two drunkards. “No,” you pointed at them as you stood, deciding the tightness in your chest was a better option than putting up with those two. Nahuel kept himself in between you and the men, the dark streak of hair along his back standing on end as he continued to growl lowly at the pair. 

“Wait! No! Hey, doll, you can’t go! You’re lonely and we’re lonely; let’s be lonely together!” 

“Not lonely,” you wheezed back, though they probably didn’t hear. You kept shuffling despite the iron-tight grip on your ribs and the burning need for air clawing up your chest. You didn’t realize Joe had quickly caught up with your until he grabbed at your waist, easily pulling you against him despite your best attempts at pushing him away. 

“C’mon. We’re really lonely, honey. And you’re so nice and warm.” You felt even more sick as he nuzzled your exposed neck, apparently not even noticing your attempts to shove him away. 

He did, however, pause when his buddy ran past, screaming at the top of his lungs. You blinked confusedly for a brief moment before you were violently shoved to the ground, cracking your head against the cement. Your vision spun, but you were fairly certain you hadn’t imagined Joe being thrown across the street. But then again, there was a tawny cougar snarling at his fallen form as it stalked towards you. 

Why was there a cougar in New York? 

The world spun as you tried to sit up, making you retch as you fell back to the pavement. Oh yeah, that was a pretty serious head wound. And with a cougar sniffing you intently, you were most certainly a dead woman. 

Except there was a strangled whimper from the cougar as he nudged you slightly, making you open your eyes. The gold eyes were unmistakingly familiar, along with the piercing intelligence behind it. “N-Nahuel?” you asked, or at least tried to. It came out more of an unintelligible groan, but he seemed to understand as he let out another whimper and another soft push with his muzzle.

A slight hysterical noise left you as you willed your hand to raise and scratch the cougar-sized cat behind his ear. Soft and thick like Nahuel’s, but definitely not the small cat you were used to. Yet there was still a black collar resting around its neck, the gold medallion glinting in the streetlight. You weren’t sure if you were completely hallucinating, or if somehow the wires got crossed and you were imagining the cat at his new size. 

Or you were petting an actual cougar, which seemed just as impossible. 

Or...magic.

It didn’t really matter in the end. “You take care of our boys, okay?” You weren’t sure if the words ever left your head or not, not with the darkness quickly overcoming your vision. You felt him shift beside you, teeth grabbing your sleeve gently. Or maybe it was death being gentle as the actual wild cat tore your to shreds. Either way, you were ignorant of anything after that. 

***

Shit.

Shit shit _shit._

Graves continued to curse to himself as he levitated you off Nahuel’s back, too worried about the amount of blood caked in your hair and the heat radiating off your limp body to question why the wampus was in his large form. Instead he cast the few diagnostic spells he knew as soon as he laid you on his bed before he summoned his stash of emergency potions from the deep pockets of his coat. 

The blood loss and trauma he knew how to deal with. Except you didn’t even flinched as he apparated the blood replenisher into your body, which was not a good sign. The sudden appearance of the potion in a person’s system tended to cause nausea and pain. And he doubted the lack of reaction wasn’t simply your no-maj heritage.

As the diagnostic spells finished, words were etched in the air. The trauma to your head included a fractured skull and a concussion, and he could work with that after his experiences in the field. Even the anemia he knew how to deal with. The raging fever, influenza accompanied with fluid in the lungs and blood poisoning were the ones he was clueless how to treat. None of his field training prepared him for this. You needed to be at Mt. Sinai getting the skilled care of the Healers there. 

Except they would realize you were a no-maj right away. And after hearing the horror stories of no-maj medicine he tossed even the notion of leaving you to their mercy out the window. Even if the stories were embellished, you were far too important take that chance. 

_Shit._

He placed a cooling spell on the sheet before covering you, not caring about the blood staining the fabric. He was more focused on the gash in your head. It was only years of experience lent him a steady hand as he carefully wove the flesh back together with magic, his wand tip centimeters from your head. Nahuel curled next to his legs as he sat on the bed beside you, his golden eyes never leaving you.

_’What had happened,’_ he wondered with a turning gut. Did someone attack you? Or were you so sick you fell and hit your head? How did you even get this sick? Didn't no-maj healers know anything? Or were you really so stubborn that you refused to go to a healer?

The flesh mended together with barely a scar, but the damage beneath was more or less untouched. He knew enough to patch someone up on the battlefield so they could hang on until healer arrived, but that was it. He wasn’t a healer, not by a long shot.

But again, a healer would know you were a no-maj with their first spell. And he was too selfish to lose you like that. Not if he could heal you himself and keep you from being obliviated.

An hour passed and then two and while your health wadn’t getting worse,you weren’t improving either. You had a cough worse than a giant’s, never mind the foul-smelling stuff flecked with red you barely managed to cough up. The fever reducer should have brought your fever down at least a few degrees, yet it remained unnaturally high. You were drenched in sweat, shivering despite the fever, and pale as a vampire. 

He conceded that he needed help as the third hour chimed. He really had no choice in the matter; there was no way he could just sit any longer, hoping what meager knowledge he had would be enough. He pressed a kiss to your hair,able to feel the heat radiating from your skin. Merlin, he needed to save you. “Stay stubborn, sweetheart. I’ll be back, I promise.”

A quick turn on his heels and he apperated straight into the quiet lobby of Mt. Sinai. Or it’s magical twin, occupying the same building as the no-majs yet complete invisible to them just like the Macusa headquarters in the Woolworth building. The sleek halls were usually lit bright during the day, but since it was far past the middle of the night they were dimmed. He hurried down the silent halls towards the ward he was most familiar with, looking for one of the Healers he could coerce into helping him without asking too many questions. Most of the doors to the individual rooms were closed, hovering lights beside them flickering colors that only the mediwitches and Healers could decipher.

He started to worry when he roamed the halls, only seeing the sweeping robes of mediwitches and healers as the hurried in and out of patients room. And of course many of them were the ones he knew to be too stubborn for him to intimidate. They would demand that he brought you to them, not trusting in his admittingly meager knowledge, at least when it came to things like this. 

Finally at one of the stations in a very peaceful ward sat a familiar Healer. Young and still in her preceptorship phase, but according to her brother Jones she was a reliable and competent Healer already. Then again, Jones virtually doted on the young woman, but he was desperate enough to try. 

She seemed engrossed in a thick tome, chewing on the well-worn tip of her wand thoughtlessly, completely oblivious to his approach until he cleared his throat. Then she jumped, wand clattering on the ground as she looked up at him with wide doe-eyes. “Uh! Di-di-director G-Graves!” she stuttered, standing up quickly. “I, uh, w-w-what can I do for you?”

To answer, he grabbed her arm and pulled her back into a private room. The moment the ambient light flared to life, he shut the door with a snap and sealed it with wards. When he looked back at the Healer, she was as pale as you were and trembling. Good, he could work with that. “The following conversation never happened, understand? This is very classified information.”

“Sh-sh-should shouldn’t shouldn’t Healer Alvarez…” she stuttered, her eyes flickering to the door nervously.

“I don’t have time,” he interrupted, which was partly true and part because Alvarez would be able to call his bluff. Alvarez had worked alongside Aurors on cases and suspects longer than Graves had even been a member of the department. “I need to know how to treat this.” A wave of his wand brought up all the information his spells had gathered, barring the few indicators of your heritage. Or, at least he hoped so.

The Healer’s mind shifted gears as she stared at the information. Gone was the shaking leaf as she raked over the numbers with a critical eye, a different kind of frown forming on her face before she glanced over at him. “Sir, this person is in critical shape. They need to be here.”

That was _not_ what he wanted to hear. “They can’t. What do I need to do.”

“Sir, this isn‘t a one-spell cold,” she emphasized with a look she had to have learned from her preceptor. “They have influenza paired with pneumonia, along with anemia and dehydration by the looks of it. And a pretty good concussion. How did they even get this bad?”

Hell if he knew. He had been repeatedly asking himself the same thing since Nahuel brought you home. “Look, time is of the essence. I can't bring her here and you can't go to her. What. Do. I. Do.” He glared down at her, and watched as she bit her lip and caved almost instantly. 

Thank Merlin, something was finally going right. 

“Her fever is high, so you need to use strong cooling charms, like Boreas’ Kiss. She needs fluids, bad. I’ll give you an osmotic saline potion, but you’re going to have to infuse it slowly. You do it too fast and it will overload her system and kill her. I’ll fetch you some blood replenishers, she’ll need at least one twice a day for two or three days judging by those numbers. I’ll search our stores for any remedies for the infections and the concussion. Wait,” she finally took a breath after bending down to pick up her wand, looking back at him with worry. “You don’t know how to perform a infusion…”

“A Healer taught me in the war,” he cut her off, not wanting to waste another second. “I still use it time to time. How fast can you gather everything?”

“Give me five minutes.”

***

By morning, you were no longer on death’s door, but still quite ill. Percival hadn’t left your side since returning from Mt. Sinai, going as far as to adjust the room so he could fit his desk and the mountain of paperwork by the bed, because he certainly couldn’t sleep. Not with you randomly deciding to start coughing up copious amounts of blood suddenly, warranting quick wand work to stem the bleeding. Or when your fever spiked without warning while your blood pressure plummeted. 

Honestly, he was having doubts and feeling guilty that he was trying to do this himself. What if he failed? What if you died because he was too selfish to let you go? But every time he was about ready to give in, you would start to improve, proving you were still fighting. 

If you weren’t going to give up, then neither could he. He would be right beside you, doing whatever he could to help. 

Granted, keeping a close eye on you meant little to know sleep, which was starting to affect him as he found himself talking to you as his eyes started to cross. First it just started about complaining about the bureaucracies he had deal with as Director, which only spiraled downwards. The trouble maker Aurors he was having trouble with, petty politics he had to put up with, how being an Auror was nothing like he had imagined when he first started. Then when the coffee stopped working and only made his hands shake, he started admitting more personal things such as when he had imagined getting you in his bed, this was not at all what he wanted.

Of course there wasn’t a reaction to that, considering you were finally sleeping peacefully, with only a slight occasional wheeze when you breathed. But he couldn’t help but wonder how you would react if you were awake. Would you blush and stammer trying to change the subject? Or would you surprise him by being bold like you had after your date, whispering in his ear as you pulled him down to lay beside you. 

The idea of just laying down beside you and resting with you cradled in his arms became increasingly tempting as time passed. He tried to resist, working on the stack of files but even that didn’t keep him occupied forever. After all, you were sick, and when you did wake up it would be shocking enough without waking up beside him. 

But he eventually gave in to temptation, however. Just a little. He sat on the very edge, back against the headboard and legs stretched out. You shifted in your sleep, curling closer to him with a faint sigh. He ran his fingers through your hair, relieved to feel your fever had lessened, though you still felt a little too warm. 

He wasn’t sure how long he rested, was instantly awake as you tried to push yourself up but failing, too weak to support yourself as you landed against him. 

“Easy sweetheart,” he soothed, shifting to help you sit up. The glazed look in your eyes had faded, though not completely as you studied him in a haze. Then you smiled, and he swore it was the best sight in the world. 

“Perc,” you slurred, but clear enough for him to understand, one hand trying to reach out and brush his cheek. He caught your hand with his, pressing it firmly against his face before pressing a kiss to your palm. 

“It’s okay,” he soothed with a faint smile. “You're okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

You gave a very faint smile before your eyes fluttering close again, relaxing against his frame as you fell back asleep. 

He relaxed, feeling relieved for a moment. This had to be a sign you were getting better. It had been hours since your last coughing fit, and your face wasn’t twisted into a grimace of pain. 

There was a faint tap at the window, a pigeon sitting on the sill with an envelope clutched in his beak. A quick wave of his wand opened the window, and the bird swooped in, dropping the paper on his lap before quickly leaving. 

The envelope unfolded itself, becoming a quickly-typed memo from his secretary. _Piquery is looking for you. Meeting with Congress at four this afternoon about the Anomaly, she wants you there._

Graves cursed his luck. Of course he couldn’t take a day off; even before that damn thing started haunting New York he had too many things vying for his attention to even consider taking a sick day. But he couldn’t leave you for Merlin-only-knows how many hours. But because of how sick you were, but also the fear that you woke up and found yourself surrounded by magic.

But who? Who could he trust both with your health and his personal secret. If anyone found out he was harboring a no-maj in his apartment filled with magical items, there would be hell to pay. There was….

One person. One person that had a soft heart and could keep her lips sealed. One witch who already knew his secret. 

***

The day was going rather slow for Queenie, which meant sitting with Ruby, munching on some sandwiches as the other witch chatted about the recent gossip she had heard from the girls in the Magical Education Department. As November came to a close, covens across the country came in for the annual licensing exams to teach those who didn’t want to go to Ilvermorny. It tended to be a huge mess, a nightmare for the small department made up of less than a dozen people. And hilarious for everyone else. 

Halfway through the story of the two different Voodoo Queens trying to one-up each other to show off, a flash of white and black caught her eye. She looked up, recognizing Graves and feeling rather scared by the dark look in his eyes as he stormed towards her. Even with the direct eye-contact, it was hard to get a read on his thoughts, other than he was worried about something. She stood, leaving Ruby bewildered as she hurried towards him. The man looked like hell with dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept for days “Director Graves? Are you alright?” Queenie asked as soon as she was close enough. “Forgive my french, but you look like hell, sir.” 

“I feel like it too,” he muttered as he grabbed her by the arm and led her towards a side corridor, not noticing the looks that followed. Queenie did and also knew the rumors that were already starting to circulate, but paid them little mind. Something was wrong for the Director to be this ragged. Sure, everyone had seen him like this after a long hard case, but this was...different.

Once they found a secluded spot away from prying ears, he let go of her arm and turned towards her. “Look, my...friend,” he whispered, wary despite the empty hallway. “She’s in bad shape, and I need help.” 

“Of course sir,” she answered, her eyes searching his as she shifted though the thoughts he allowed to pass through his occlumency shield. Oh, you were in bad shape alright. Her own memories of watching her sister and the mediwitches taking care of her parents interrupted briefly, stirring an old ache in her heart before she pushed it aside. She offered her hand without hesitation, a stubborn look on her face. “Let’s go.”


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie can't keep a secret from Tina, Graves evades Picquery, and Credence misses you.
> 
> Oh, and you learn the truth.

Queenie was fairly certain everyone would be jealous if they knew she had actually seen the interior of Director Graves’ apartment. But honestly...it felt more like another office, with the common area filled with bookcases and a desk, though there was a chair and a couch but they came off more utilitarian than for comfort. A glance in the kitchen revealed a rather barren room, but that was all she was afforded--a glance-- because the Director was in a rush.

And, oh, you were in bad shape. You looked nothing like the young woman she had met that night at the no-maj speakeasy who had been radiating joy and excitement. Now you were pale and sickly, your eyes barely fluttering open as Graves spoke your name.

“Shouldn’t she be under the care of those No-maj doctors?” she whispered as your eyes closed. “That’s what they call them, right? Doctors?”

“Have you ever been in their so-called hospitals?” he shot back, lingering by the side of the bed, his hand absently holding yours. 

“Well, no,” she admitted, feeling rather admonished by the look he sent her. And just the quick glance of his eyes gave her images that made her squeamish. He had, apparently, and it was nothing like the halls of Mount Sinai. “All right. Just tell me what I need to do.” 

After a quick explanation, Graves disappeared, leaving Queenie feeling more than a little daunted. But she could do this, she reminded herself. It was an honor that Director Graves was trusting her this much. She didn’t need her ability to see that he cared for you, how important you were to him.

But at the same time, she could feel exactly how much you meant to the Macusa Director. This wasn’t some fling like the others she knew. They witches and wizards she knew had relationships with no-majs for the thrill of doing something illegal. But Director Graves….

He loved you, and that terrified her. 

***

“Why are there rumors that you and Graves are having an affair?” Tina asked a few days later as she watched her sister do her usual beauty routine, secretly trying to decide if that was a new charm or not. Jones had asked her yesterday about her sister and their boss. She had scoffed at first, figuring Jones was on one of his conspiracies-kick again. But more rumors started to reach her ear involving her sister and her boss. Ruby herself claimed that Graves had suddenly appeared and yanked Queenie away passionately….which was had to believe considering Director Graves’s stern demeanor, but there had to be at least an ounce of truth to it.

Granted, Graves did not look like a man that was...enjoying the finer things. In fact, he looked worse than she had ever seen him, like he barely got any sleep. His temper was shorter when he did make an appearance, and he was constantly distracted.

But that...thing had been wrecking the streets every night for the last three days. None of them were getting more than a few hours of sleep. Maybe the stress was just getting to him more than usual.

“We’re not. And yes it’s a new charm but not for the reason’s your thinking.” Queenie glanced to her sister’s reflection in her mirror with a slight pout. “When is the last time I tried hiding a boy from you?”

“Erik back in Ilvermorny,” Tina conceded with a faint hint of a smile. “It lasted what, three days before you confessed? But…” she sighed as she crossed over to the vanity and played with some of the no-maj makeup her sister used, claiming it was better than charms or potions. “You and the director have been spending a lot of time together. And, well, even I’ll admit he’s rather easy on the eyes.”

Queenie frowned, rubbing the mother-of-pearl handle of her wand. Keeping secrets from her sister was impossible. Not because she had her own gift of telling when someone was lying, but because it was Tina. They had made a pact long ago to never hide secrets. They could trust each other with everything; after all, all they had was each other. “I’ve been helping Mr. Graves with...with a friend.”

Tina's eyes narrowed as she sat the bottle of perfume down. “Queenie. Graves doesn't have friends. He has co-workers and allies, but not friends.”

“He does too…” Queenie argued lightly, before admitting to herself that was a bit of a stretch. “Well, okay. She’s more of a lady friend, I suppose.” She smiled as she turned to her, “Tina, it is so cute the two of them together. But right now she’s sick, and he’s trying to take care of her by himself and still do his job. Which you know that isn’t working out, so I’ve been helping by keeping an eye on her while he’s working,” she answered, getting off on a tangent as she was prone to do. “Or sleeping, which the man barely closes his eyes for more than an hour before he’s at it again. I knew he was a workaholic, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

Tina was still frowning despite being able to tell her sister was being honest. One: Graves had a girl? He was the infamous bachelor of Macusa, unreachable to any girl, or guy for that matter. He was absolutely devoted to his job. Two: how did Queenie even get wrangled into helping him? She didn’t think they were on that personable terms. Three: “If she’s that sick, why not take her to Mt. Sinai, or have a mediwitch tend to her? You know the Graves have a wealthy estate.” 

Queenie pressed her lips together. She promised him she wouldn't say anything. She promised, and she never went back on her word.

But it was Tina. How could she keep a secret from her?

“She’s...well, she’s a no-maj.”

***

Queenie’s head had been in the clouds for the rest of that morning, gut and mind turning as she wondered if she had done the right thing. Graves had placed his trust in her about his friend, no one else. It hadn’t really been her secret to tell. And her sister had been livid, with half a mind to march right to President Picquery and spill everything. After all, the Director of Magical _Security_ had a no-maj sleeping in his bed. Even after nearly an hour of debate, Queenie wasn’t a hundred percent positive her sister wouldn’t. 

She had to trust her sister. And for once in a long time, it was a scary thought. 

_‘Where is he?’_ The question rang out clear as day Queenie was sure someone spoke it until she looked up and saw President Picquery marching down the hallway towards her, obviously lost in her own mind. Very rarely did she hear people without at least looking at them--actually, the only one she had was her sister. But the split second of eye-contact pushed that thought out of her mind. The president was livid, and Graves was nowhere to be found. 

Oh no. Queenie paused, heart hammering in her chest before she set off down the hall at a quick pace, ignoring looks and calls as she reached the area designated for apparition. 

It was strange how familiar she was getting with Graves apartment, which had been nothing like she had expected. The man was nothing at all like she had expected, really. But, she had never given a moment to wonder what the man was like outside of work, either. 

Speaking of which, she had suppress the urge to squeal in delight when she looked inside the man’s bedroom and saw the pair of you. You were fast asleep on your side, one arm hanging off the bed. Which,was nothing unusual, it was the fact he had fallen asleep in the chair he had transfigured by the bed, slumped over and his hand tightly entwined with yours. 

His devotion to you was the thing that surprised her the most. And also the most heartbreaking, more so than his absolute devotion to his job, or the fact he didn’t seem to understand what an actual meal was, let alone a decent night of sleep. 

“Sir?” she called out quietly, and then a little louder when he didn’t stir...with the exact same effect. She bit her lip. Really, he needed his sleep; he looked almost as bad as you did. He was wearing himself out trying to juggle everything as well as being by your side as much as possible. 

But as much as he needed the rest, she was more worried about the trouble he would be in with Picquery if she found out he had more-or-less taken the day off without apparently letting anyone know. “Mr. Graves?” she tried, hesitantly stepping into the room, ignoring the dark magic detectors that always started to spin when she was around as they picked up her innate legilimency. “Mr. Graves.”

She lightly touched his arm, and only years of living with Tina gave her the reflexes to miss the spell that shot from his wand. The spell crashed into the wall and left a good-sized hole in the plaster, but she paid it little mind. She was more concerned with the look in his eyes, worried she might have overstepped the boundaries a little too much.

Except the dark glare slowly faded as he woke up, lowering his wand as he relaxed slightly. “Sorry,” he finally voiced, running a hand into his messy hair. “I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?” 

“Quarter ‘til noon, sir. ...President Picquery is looking for you.” 

He paused before cursing. “Shit. She’s going to have my head.” He quickly stood, and she jumped to the side as he readied himself in a hurry-which essentially meant a quick spell to get out any wrinkles of his clothes and running a quick brush through his hair. He seemed to completely forget about her until he paused at the door, his eyes settling on your sleeping figure in the bed, his glare softening before he glanced towards her.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” she assured with a faint smile. “I told Abernathy I had migraine, so don’t worry about it.”

He nodded faintly, “Thanks again, miss Goldstein.”

Queenie’s stomach twisted as he disappeared, the guilt of telling her sister gnawing at her once more as she took the seat by the bed. “Oh what a tangled web we weave, huh?” she asked rhetorically. You shifted, a frown crossing your face as you mumbled into the thick pillow. 

***

Graves ignored the looks and quiet whispering that followed him after he entered Macusa, and thankfully Red was silent during the ride down to the Security department. The goblin was giving him an odd look out of the corner of his eyes, but the look went ignored as well, his mind consumed with far more pressing matters. 

He really didn’t feel up to talking with Picquery. You were still out of it, either sleeping so heavily you were dead-to-the world or in a delirium the small moments you were awake. He kept pressing the intern Healer, who in turn kept insisting for him to allow her to do her own assessment between assurances that your symptoms were normal for as sick as you were, yet also admitting the potions weren’t as effective as they should be.

Merlin. Did it matter you were a no-maj? He knew there were differences, but did that include a tolerance against potions? What if they were doing more harm than good? Should he have taken you to a no-maj clinic?

He wasn’t used to second-guessing his decisions. He had always been able to trust his training and instincts. This...this was driving him insane. He just wanted you better, and yet he tried not thinking about what would happen once you were. Was there any chance you would believe it was a fever dream when you woke? 

Picquery was waiting in his office, sitting at his desk and flicking through the reports that were stacked high on his desk. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your desk this messy,” she commented as he paused at the door. “Usually you’re very dedicated to keep it tidy.”

“I’ve been busy,” he answered as he took his own chair, grimacing at the piles of papers. He would have to take more back home when he was finished. “What do I owe the pleasure of your visit, madam president?”

“The fact you’ve been absent more than present the last couple of days,” she answered with a frown, folding her hands in her lap and focusing her sharp gaze on him. “Things are escalating, Graves. I need you here.”

Graves’ stomach twisted; that was exactly the thing he did _not_ want to hear. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve been taking care of a friend who’s extremely sick right now.”

There was a flash of surprise that crossed the woman’s face before she settled with a slightly befuddled frown. “Graves, this may sound horrible, but I didn’t know you had friends. But, if they need help, surely they would be better off at Mt. Sinai.”

You probably would be, if they would even agree to treat you. But, as soon as you were well enough, they would Obliviate you. Granted, he wasn’t sure he could avoid that future by treating you himself. “It’s...complicated,” he found himself answering after a moment. “She’s not exactly a fan of mediwitches or Healers, and she’s rather stubborn.” That last part was true, at least. He hadn’t realized how stubborn you were until now, which was a blessing to be sure; as sick as you were yet you were determined not to give up. 

“She?” A smile formed on Picquery’s face as she shifted in her chair, the sharp look on her face softening. “Are you telling me that Macusa’s famous bachelor has someone?”

He paused for a moment, reluctant to answer. He really, really did not want to have this conversation. If more people knew of you, the higher his chances of being caught in this web of lies. Especially Piquery. “Something like that,” he finally answered. “She’s...special. Look, Madam President I’m sure we have more important things to discuss.”

“The magical world will not end if I take a few minutes to talk with my friend,” Piquery waved her hand nonchalantly, making him wince internally. Merlin help anyone when she was being this tenacious. “You haven’t had someone significant in your life since...well, since I can remember. I want to know who it is, and when I can meet this lucky witch.”

“She’s a very private person,” he deflected as he vanished the stacks of papers with a flick of his wand, already dreading facing the mountain it created with the other forms he had waiting for him. “And currently quite ill.”

“You know, rumors have been floating that you and Queenie Goldstein have been spending a fair amount of time together,” she countered with a small smirk and a glint in her dark eye. “I don’t usually approve of workplace romances, but you two are in different departments, so there’s no need to hide a relationship with her.”

“What? No,” Graves shook his head with a scoff. “Merlin, no. Miss Goldstein is fine woman, but she’s not my type. She’s been helping me take care of...my friend.” 

Picquery frowned with a sigh. “And here I was rather hoping it was. Fine, if you won’t give me a name, will you at least amuse your old friend and tell me how the two of you met?” 

Graves thought about it for a moment. He could give her that much without giving away enough to make her suspicious. Hopefully. “She lives close by and we would bump into each other often,” he answered, a faint smile finally appearing as he remembered those early days. Everything had been much less stressful then. When he could just talk with you, flirting with little worry and enjoy watching you blush and stammer when you tried to flirt back. “Nahuel was, is, rather fond of her, and led her to my apartment on more than one occasion.”

“Well, if a wampus approves of her, how can I argue?” she answered with a smile, and Merlin, Graves wish that could be the truth. “I suppose we should get to business.” Any humor disappeared from Picquery’s face as she adjusted in her seat. Gone was the friend he knew back in school, replaced by the sharp witch that was crazy and ambitious enough to run for president. “For example, the rumor that one of your Aurors have been following the Second Salemers. And an inexperienced one at that.”

“She’s doing so under my direction,” he answered without hesitation. “Whatever has been tearing the streets of New York at night is connected to them. More often than not, the creature appears near their premise. She’s gathered a lot of intel we wouldn’t have otherwise.”

“That may be, but that’s all we have,” she countered sharply. “Information. We are no closer to capturing or killing this thing. I’ve reviewed her reports, and she cares about those no-maj children to the point I’m concerned she’ll do something foolish.” Picquery took a breath, trying to reign in her temper. She had been so stressed her usual calm demeanor wasn’t as solid as it usually was. “What I’m trying to say is that you need to reprimand her before something happens, Graves. Already people are threatening to riot, stating that we are not doing our job. Even the International Council is starting to question if we have the proper control over this situation. If she slips up and thinks with her heart and not her head, we’re screwed. The whole magical world would have our heads if the Statute is broken because of this whole debacle, and our reputation will be worse than Dorcus Twelvetrees.” 

Percival’s gut turned, the weight of everything settling hard on his shoulders. “I know. I’ll talk to Tina, but I do believe that the Second Salemers are involved with this somehow.”

“Be sure you do.” Piquery stood, a faint tap of her wand smoothing the wrinkles of her dress robes. She paused, giving him a faint smile. “You’re my oldest friend and my most trusted ally, Perc. I know your friend is dear to you, but your duty to your country needs to come first right now. I’m sure she will understand.”

***

It had been over three days since Credence walked you home. Three days since you told him that you would be back before he realized it. When you told him that you loved him. The darkness ate at him in your absence, turning the healed areas on his soul sore and tender once more. It felt worse than before, when he hadn’t had someone he relied on. To have you gone, to not be welcomed with that smile, knowing you were happy to see him. It hurt.

Credence kept telling himself it was okay. You were just sick, you would be back soon and everything would go back to the way it was. After all, when he had helped you home, it was easy to tell how feverish you had been. How addled your mind was. It would take time to recover from that.

He still missed you and felt more than little lost without you.

On the fourth day, he gathered the courage to return to the boarding house to check up on you. Except when Shapiro answered the door, she had told him that you had never returned home from the night before.

He returned the next day, and still no word. Five days became six, and then a full week without any sign of you. McNally seemed to understand his plight, and tried to be less gruff. Credence could tell he worried about you as well, stating that he had put in a missing person's report when he had heard you had disappeared. Though he also admitted a young woman disappearing usually never ended well. It was not what he needed to hear.

Mrs. Shapiro, however, did not take kindly to his daily visits. Yet, despite her slamming the door in his face time and again, he couldn’t give up hope. Not with the demon growing stronger every day, demanding release every night.

Except when it had its fill of freedom and destruction, he didn’t feel any relief as he collapsed into his bed. It was still there, lurking just below the surface ready to lash out, leaving him even more exhausted as he tried to hold it in until the sun set and his mother and siblings fell asleep.

Was this it? Was he finally going to lose his precarious control and submit to the darkness? He tried to hold onto the hope you were okay. That you had to go somewhere without notice, and would be back.

He had to hold on. Just for a little while longer. 

***

The bed was far more comfortable than what you were use to. It felt like laying on a cloud, and you just laid there for a long time, simply dozing and basking in the softness and warmth. But then your mind woke some more, and you were curious as to why your bed was so comfortable. Usually you could feel the springs poking through, and it was always either too hot or too cold. Never perfect like this.

The simple answer was that this was not your bed. Or your room for that matter, as you realized when you finally opened your eyes. The room was lit by the sun, and easily twice the size of your hole in the wall at the boarding house, never mind it was far nicer with paint that wasn’t peeling and carpet instead of splintering wood floors. You tried to sit up quickly in surprise, only to have the world spin. You collapsed back into the plush pillows suddenly feeling ill. Okay. That had been a bad idea. 

But where were you? This was definitely not Mrs. Shapiro’s, or a hospital for that matter. Your memories were hazy at best, with missing bits and pieces. You could remember walking home. Something involving Nahuel that had surprised you...and an odd memory, or maybe a dream, of Percival murmuring softly to you in comfort. 

Was this his place? But how did you even get here? 

You tried once more to sit up, this time much slower. The world still tilted and your whole body ached as you propped yourself up against the headboard, and once the world finally stopped sway, you wondered if maybe you were more ill than you thought. Odd gadgets that would have easily came from an H.G. Wells novel littered the nightstand, the books that filled the nearby bookcase looked ancient with titles in foreign languages, and the small desk calendar had constantly shifting dates and times on them. Never mind the people in the three pictures that sat on the bedside table were moving, looking curiously back at you as they whispered to each other. 

This was a fever dream, right? You never had them before, but the only other explanation was that you had gone crazy.

Just as that thought crossed your mind, the bedroom door opened. You looked up to see Percival freeze at the doorway, looking more than a little haggard as he stared back at you. Silence hung heavy in the air for a long moment before he pointed out the obvious: “You’re awake.”

“Not sure I am, actually,” you answered back, your voice hoarse from being unused. “I feel like shit.”

His lips twitched slightly, his features softening into relief. “I bet. You had me worried the last few days.”

“Days?” you squeaked. “You’re kidding me.” He shook his head as he walked to the bookcase and picked up one of the bottles that littered the shelves. It was tiny, with a butter-yellow liquid inside that you had never seen before. “What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.” He sat on the edge of the bed, close enough that your leg was pressed against his. “Here, drink this.”

“What is it?” You looked at it warily, though when he unscrewed the decorative metal stopper off, the soft scent of honey and cream made it more appetizing, reminding you oddly of home.

“A Panacea Elixir. Don’t ask me what’s in it, potions was never my strong suit.” 

You gave him an odd look but took the tiny bottle and downed the contents. You gagged slightly at the sickly-sweetness and gratefully accepted the glass of water...which you swore you hadn't seen earlier. Your gaze shifted around the room again before glancing over to him. “So, is that why I’m seeing things?” 

There was a pause, and the look on Graves’ face was indecipherable. “What do you remember?” he asked instead, taking your hand in his absently, his thumb slowly caressing the back of your hand.  
“How did you get so sick?” 

“It’s just a cold,” you tried to excuse, but the skeptical look have you made it clear he didn’t buy it. Which, considering you were in his bed, hallucinating, and out apparently for days, you supposed he had a point. “Well, I thought it was. Guess I was wrong. Last thing I remember, I was heading home for the club, and two drunks were hassling me. Nahuel…” you trailed off as the scene replayed itself in your mind. You looked at the moving pictures, the people watching you expectantly. You remembered the black cloud and his sudden appearance. The destruction that fixed itself within mere seconds. 

Things clicked into place and this time you couldn’t shake it. “Magic is real, isn’t it?” Your blunt question hung in the air, his hand tightening around yours as he refused to meet your eyes. The realization hit you in the gut. You expected a laugh, assurances that it was the medicine making you silly. Not...not this. “You’re...you’re a….”

“Wizard.” he finished, finally meeting your gaze. The look of raw fear of rejection, along with a small hint of pleading hope....the similarity between him and Credence in that moment was uncanny.

That look threw out any other reaction to the news as you squeezed his hand, a faint smile on your lips. “After everything, do you think I would care?” you asked softly. “You’re...You’re Percival Graves, I don’t care about anything else.” 

He shook his head, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “You never cease to surprise me,” he admitted quietly, meeting your gaze as he cupped your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “I imagine most would not take that revelation so calmly.”

“To be honest, I...wondered about the possibility.” It seemed crazy to admit that out loud, but you were feeling quite buzzed from either the medicine or just being so sick. “Magic and all that. I’m a little annoyed you didn’t just tell me, to be honest.” 

His smile faded, a dark look flashing across his eyes as his hand fell from your face. “For hundreds of years our cultures have been separated because of hate and fear. Because of it…” He paused before continuing softly. “Because of that, I’m breaking the law just by knowing you, let alone….”

His words twisted your gut, the implications of his words bringing a small fluttery feeling that was quickly dwarfed by the heavier meaning. Finally, his reluctance and secretive nature made sense. None of this was because he didn’t want to, or because he had some secret relationship...well, besides you. “Oh...I’m, I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty about being so pushy in the past; desperate to be his friend, encouraging him to open up to you. Trying to further your friendship into something more. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmured quietly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I knew better, but…” his thumb brushed your cheek as he trailed off, studying your face. “You were worth it. Merlin, you are so worth it. I would kiss you right now, but you’re still rather sick.”

The odd admission made you laugh, which only ended in a dry coughing fit, making you double over. He held you close, rubbing your back as the fit faded and left you feeling absolutely exhausted. You leaned into him as you caught your breath. It felt so nice in his arms, and you were reluctant to move. 

_Please just let this be a fever dream,_ you prayed as you closed your eyes, resting your head against his shoulder. But it felt too real. And as ludicrous as magic being real was, it also made too much sense after everything. 

It wasn’t fair. You loved him; good Lord how much you loved him. And you knew in your heart he felt the same, even if those words had never been spoke aloud. Why? Why you? Why him?

“C’mon sweetheart,” he spoke, waking your from your daze as he shifted. “You need to rest, you're not out of the woods yet.” 

You really didn’t want to, but your body betrayed you as your eyes refused to open while he helped you lay back down, your mind already halfway gone. But not enough to miss the lingering kiss to your forehead.  
***

Percival sighed as he sunk into the bed beside you, resting his back against the headboard. By now it was a familiar position, but the worry in his stomach was new. He had been praying for this moment as much as he dreaded it. You had woke up, _really_ woke up and not the half-delirious moments of the past few days. 

And you knew. Right away you figured it out. He had known you had been suspicious, but thankfully willing to ignore your curiosity. For him. And he had used that flimsy excuse to not Obliviate you. But now….

He sighed, running his hand through your hair. He would worry about that when you were better. Your fever still came and went, though your breathing didn’t seem as labored. At most, he had only a few more days before he had to wipe your memories. A few more days before he lost you forever. 

“Mr. Graves?” Queenie broke his dark thoughts, though the frown on her face made him suspect she had caught a thought. “I didn’t know you had returned.”

“Just for a moment,” he said, regretfully pulling away from you. “...She woke up, and she knows.” 

Queenie bit her lip, her heart aching in her chest. She had known it was inevitable, knew that Graves had known it would happen sooner or later. That didn’t help the ache any, however. “I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“If she wakes again, let me know,” was all he said before grabbing some files sitting on a shelf before Apperating, leaving Queenie alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada!!! Reader knows!!! But, is that something to celebrate? And poor Credence, he depends so much on you.
> 
> Keep an eye peeled later this week for a new story called 'Maybe, What if, and If Only', which will be a little side project featuring snippets from this story. First one will revolve around Credence's perspective of ch. 13.
> 
> edited: 4/6/18


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queenie is heartbroken, you're heartbroken, and Graves is heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 4/6/18

It had been several hours since Graves had left. Queenie had read the novels she had brought and resorted to busying herself in the kitchen, partly to distract herself and partly because Graves apparently lived off coffee and the occasional sandwich. The man obviously needed someone in his life to remind him to take care of himself. It was all too easy for her to predict that his self care was only going to get worse. The more time she spent with him, the easier it was to see threw himself into his work rather than deal with any personal problems. 

_“She woke up, and she knows.”_

The admission troubled Queenie, and judging by the look on Graves’ face, it about broke him. If he was already working himself to death before, she could only imagine how hard it was going to be on him soon enough. 

You knew about magic. While before his relationship with you was taboo, now it was going against every single law and statute. Not oblivating you was no longer an option now that you knew the truth. And that might just be the last straw for him.

She had seen more than a few wizard and no-maj couples, and privately kept an eye on them. If even the notion of telling entered their mind, she told Tina and she would deal with it. Before, she never gave it much thought about anything after that. It was highly illegal and they were usually no more than exciting flings for the wizard or witch involved. 

But you two...you two were different. This was no wild fling just for the sake of it. She had known Graves earnestly cared for you just by meeting the two of you at the Speakeasy, and the subsequent conversation afterwards. But, these last few days proved her original thought wrong. 

He didn’t just care, the man was utterly and completely in love with you.

“I’ve seen you before, right?”

Queenie jumped a little, her magic faltering for a slight second. Once she was sure that the food was fine, she turned to see you at the door. You looked a little out of breath as you leaned on the door frame, pale and clammy with dark circles beneath your eyes. But, not scared. 

No, you were. But not because of the magic. 

“Honey, I’m not Mr. Graves wife. Just a friend. Queenie, remember? Back on your date?” She offered a smile, though she felt like crying at the unfairness. One glance and she knew.

You loved him just as much as he loved you. 

***

You had been very tempted to just stay in bed when you woke up. Especially after peeking an eye open and realizing you were in the same bed, the same room, and the three portraits were still moving, which you took a moment to study. One was a giggling baby, barely able to sit on his own as he grabbed at the toys beside him. Another was a large group of people, a class portrait if you guessed right, the people within more interested in talking to one another. The third one had a family of four, the young boy who looked rather like Percival waved when he noticed you, while the older couple (his parents?) hushed him from behind and the young woman (sister?) beside him slapped his hand down. He looked disheartened for a moment, and you couldn’t help but wave when he looked back at you, earning a smile from him.

This...wasn’t a dream, or a hallucination. Magic was real. Percival Graves was a wizard. Nahuel...was a familiar and a very odd cat. You weren’t sure if those two went hand in hand yet. Either way, you were sure your life couldn’t get any stranger. 

A rich, savory scent eventually drew you out of the comfort of the bed, your stomach growling. Even though you were sure your decency had gone out the window considering the plain cotton nightgown you wore, you were still compelled to throw a blanket around your shoulder and pull it tight as you shuffled out. The main room was the one you had caught glimpses of before, lined with bookcases and his writing desk, along with a dark leather chair and matching couch. 

You peered curiously at the books-- _Compendium of Native American Rituals, Spellcasting Techniques of the Iroquois People, Quick Reference Text for Ancient Norse Runes, Bestiary of North and South America_ \--before continuing to the kitchen and recognizing the blonde waving a slim...wand. It was a wand, she was a witch, and she was making one of the best roasts you’ve ever seen without a stove or any kind of cookware you could see. 

“I’ve seen you before, right?” you announced, causing her to jump and the food floating in the air wobble for a moment. You recognized her, but from where you were unsure. Maybe the...potions...Graves had given you, were messing with your mind. Or, you acknowledge, you were still rather sick, considering how out of breath and dizzy you felt just from the short walk.

But...if she was here, looking completely at home in Percival’s house...then, was she….

“Honey, I’m not Mr. Graves wife. Just a friend,” she offered a watery smile, interrupting your sluggish train of thought. “Queenie, remember? Back on your date?” 

You vaguely recalled the date at the speakeasy, proving your mind was jumbled if you could forget that, before you wondered if your concern was really that apparent. But your stomach growled, demanding food, and you tossed your suspicion to the side.

“Take a seat, I’ll get you fixed up,” she offered, gesturing to the small breakfast nook. “I’ll make you some soup. Chicken noodle sound good?”

“Yeah,” you croaked, feeling a bit overwhelmed as you sat down. A glass floated over, filling with water and a few cubes of ice. You watched in disbelief as the soup put itself together in midair, the knife making short work of the vegetables as the chicken breast roasted before your eyes and then shredded itself into a stockpot.

“You’re not scared at all, are you?” Queenie asked as the roast separated itself along with a portion of the vegetables and rolled itself up with what you assumed was aluminium foil before stacking neatly in a pile on the counter. The stockpot settled on the counter, a ladle filling up a bowl that delivered itself along with a spoon. 

“Should I be?” you asked distractedly, unable to resist the smell and took a sip. _Oh_ , homemade and as good as your mother used to make, except hers would have taken hours to make and not minutes. 

Magic really was amazing. 

“No, honey, not at all.” She smiled as settled across from you. “Mr. Graves and I won’t hurt you. But, I imagine a lot of no-maj’s--people with no magic--would be terrified right now if they were in your place.” 

Mary Lou popped into your mind, and you could see her coming completely undone if she knew any of this was real. She would probably have a heart attack...not that it would be a bad thing. “Oh, you know that woman too,” Queenie interrupted with a frown, making you pause. “My sister tells me she has never met someone so cruel or heartless.” 

“How? Are you...reading my mind?” 

Queenie blinked as she sat up. “Oh, I’m sorry honey! I forgot. I’m a Legilimens, sorta like your no-maj psychics...except not really. I’ll try to stop, I just forget sometimes the difference before people speaking and people thinking loudly.” 

Not only were witches and wizards real, but so were psychics. Wait, could Percival….“Can everyone do that?”

“No, no!” she reassured with a smile. “For most witches or wizards it’s a very advanced skill, only a few master it. However, in a few families it’s a trait that we’re born with. I actually have a harder time _not_ doing it.” 

You tried to process her words as you finished your soup. Maybe your life could get stranger after all. 

“So where is Perc...Mr. Graves?” you asked after a moment, correcting your slip. After all, you unsure if it would be rude of you to refer to him so informally, considering she was referring to him as ‘Mr. Graves.’ 

“Honey, he doesn’t mind you calling him that, you’re friends.” You...knew that bit quite well. He seemed to really like it when you called him by his first name. Your mind brought back the night of your date and your parting kiss, and you hoped she didn’t know. But the growing smile on her face said otherwise. “Anyways, he’s back at Macusa, working as always. I never realized how much he worked, or how little he took care of himself.” She glanced at the leftovers. “How he became director, I will never know.”

There was a moment of silence as you finished your soup. Questions filled your mind, creating a whirlwind of thoughts and you didn’t know where to start. Actually, no, you did. You gathered your courage as you set the spoon down. “Percival...he said that...that _this_ was illegal.”

Her smile died and was replaced by a somber look that was rather like the one when you first entered the kitchen. “There are several laws to keep us and no-majs apart,” she acknowledged slowly, making your stomach turn. He was breaking the law for just befriending you, let alone taking care of you like this. If he got in any sort of trouble because of you….

Queenie reached over and grabbed your hands, giving you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, only me and Mr. Graves know. He won’t be in any trouble, but it’s sweet of you to worry.”

There was a flood of relief, but then another problem raised its ugly head. “What about me?” 

“You’ll forget,” Percival spoke before Queenie could say a word. He had appeared sometime during your conversation, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, dressed in his usual suit and thick black coat. There was a haunted look in his eyes, but a tightly-controlled neutral expression on his face. “You’ll forget everything about magic.” 

Your heart thumped hard in your chest, and you forced yourself to breathe. “But, I’ll remember you, right?”

Your weak question hung in the air, followed by a long, heavy silence as you stared at each other. You didn’t need Queenie’s gift to know the answer to your question, and it made you feel ill in a brand new way. 

Queenie stood suddenly, her purse and jacket appearing with the barest flick of her wand. “I’ll--I’ll let you two talk,” she whispered, almost afraid to break the silence. “...I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Graves.”

He barely nodded towards Queenie, his eyes never leaving you, and you only glanced away when she literally disappeared with a pop. There was another long tense silence before you spoke in a low whisper. “How much will I forget about you?”

“Everything,” he admitted, and it felt like the whole earth shattered beneath you. “It’ll be like we never met.” 

You bit your lip, trying to stop the tears from forming in your eyes. Everything you could have thought up, every horrible punishment and consequence, forgetting him would never had been one of them. “I was foolish,” he continued, shaking his head with an aggravated sigh. “I was stupid enough to think I could keep it a secret. That somehow you could remain oblivious and…” He paused for a moment before finishing in a whisper: “and I would never have to lose you.” 

That destroyed any strength you had left. Hot tears rolled down your face as you tried to at least suppress your sobs. You would forget and he would remember. You would forget everything; the honeyed kisses, seeing him smile almost against his will, hearing his laugh and seeing that look in his eye that made butterflies dance in your heart and a fire bloom in the pit of your stomach. 

And he would remember all of it, and live with the heartache knowing you were out there with no memory of him. 

You didn’t know which was worse.

“Sweetheart,” he soothed, kneeling in front of you, gently pulling the knuckles you were biting away as he whispered your name. “I’m sorry. I should have never--.”

“Percival Graves, you idiot,” you interrupted with a weepy snap. “I ain’t upset about that. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. I-I love you,” you whispered, fingers dancing along the curve of his face as you tried in vain to memorize him. “I’m-I’m just mad that I had to be so damned stubborn. If I...If I would have taken better care of myself and...and…” You were a bit hysterical, gasping for breath between sobs. Somehow, you ended up on the floor, cradled in his lap with your face pressed to his shoulder while he rubbed your back and whispered reassurances in your ear.

_“It’s okay.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“I promise, it will be okay.”_

_“I love you too.”_

The last one only made you cry harder. 

***

After a while, Percival decided the floor wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place, or the best for you considering how sick you were. With little effort, he simply picked you up and carried you out to the couch in the study, settling you down before disappearing for a few moments then reappearing with a pair of small bottles. 

“The elixir,” he offered the small yellow bottle, “or the fever reducer.” He held up a vial that looked like pea soup. “Too sweet or plain disgusting. Which one first?” 

“Is neither an option?” you grumbled slightly, glaring at both of them. You never were one for medication or any home remedies, preferring to tough a cold out. But then again, that’s how you got into this mess. Plus, you knew the elixir tended to knock you out. And right now, you didn’t want to sleep.

There was a faint amused smile on his face. “Unfortunately, no.” He handed you the pea soup bottle, and you about gagged as soon as you twisted the metal lid off. Not pea soup. Vomit. It smelled like vomit. You gave him a slight glare before the downing the contents like it was bad whiskey, and then quickly held out your hand so you could down the elixir.

Oh lord, that was worse. Those two should never go together. A glass of water appeared, and you gratefully took a long drink from it. “Are you sure that’s not making me sick?” you wheezed out afterwards.

“I’m sure.” He settled in the couch beside you, and you only hesitated for a moment before you seized the opportunity to curl up next to him. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but remember that after this, you would never be able to be close enough to indulge in his subtle warmth. Or breathe the heady scent of his cologne as his arm fell around your shoulders. 

But, you had known there would be an end to this someday. He had told you long ago that there could never be anything between you, and you had said you understood. 

In hindsight, you hadn’t understood. Not at all. You still didn’t really regret it, not on your half. You did regret causing heartache for him, however. You had never wanted that. 

“You never did explain how you got so bad,” Percival spoke after a moment, fingers trailing lazily along your arm as you rested your head against him. “You mentioned something about a couple of drunks?” 

Even in your haze, you could detected the worry in his tone and smiled. “I tried going to work at the club, but Jake sent me home as soon as I opened the door. Nahuel was walking with me and made me rest once in awhile. The last time, he chose a bench in front of a speakeasy and two guys came out. They...they were looking for a good time and I tried pushing them away.” Beside you, you could feel him tense, and you twined your hand with the one he had draped over your shoulder, trying to soothe him. “Next thing I knew, one is running away screaming, and I was knocked to the ground while somehow Nahuel was as big as a cougar and snarling at the other one.”

He sighed, the tension slowly leaving his grip on you. “There had been a report of a cougar roaming New York, I had hoped it wasn’t him.” There was a pause before he continued in a low voice: “I assume they left that bruise on your neck?”

You paused, confused for a moment before looking up at him. “That was you, or don’t you remember?”

He frowned as he shifted slightly. “I would never hurt you.”

You had to smile despite affronted expression on his face. “Well, at the time, you weren’t exactly hurting me. I actually quite enjoyed it, and I’m pretty sure you were too.” 

His brows knitted together in confusion for a moment before realization dawned across his face. Your smile became a grin at the blush that faintly colored his cheeks. “Oh. Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too.” 

You laughed as you nestled closer to him. “I’m not. Like I said, I quite enjoyed it. Well, except the part where I had to explain to Credence what a hickey was the next day.” Your smile died from your lips as a new thought crossed your mind. “When I...you know, what about him? Both him and McNally know about you...sorta.” 

There was a pause as he held you a little tighter. “The magic will alter their memories as well. It spreads out like ripples in a pond, reaching everywhere.” 

There was a somber moment as you tried to absorb that piece of information, and decided to try and think of something else. “So...Nahuel can change into a cougar. How does that work.”

“He’s not actually a cat, but a wampus,” he explained simply, apparently very eager to change the topic of conversation as well. “Well, half wampus, we think. We busted an illegal breeder and found him among the other creatures. Usually any magical beasts are prohibited in the city, but he’s different. Wampus fur is highly prized and sought after, and even with him being a halfbreed we’ve had people after him. Everywhere we tried to place him, he showed up in my office. So, for his protection, Madam President allowed a special permit.”

That...explained a lot, actually. Out of everything, learning Nahuel wasn’t actually a cat made sense. You took a moment to digest the information before poking the one thing that didn’t exactly make sense. “Madam...president?”

It was soothing to listen to him talk, explaining every question your sleepy mind could come up with. They had an actual female president, who was also black. The idea was as outlandish as magic being real. Which made you oddly think of unicorns, only to learn they were real and some of the wild mustangs out west were actual unicorns in disguise. There was a school for formal education of witches and wizards, though a lot of families preferred to homeschool. Or communities, known as covens, had informal schools with each teaching their own closely-guarded types of magic. And yes, they did ride brooms, and pointed hats were used mostly in rituals and ceremonies. 

Sometime after recovering from your fit of giggle-coughs from that image, you had dozed off. Both from the effects of the potion and the warm, safe feeling of being next to Percival. You weren’t sure how long you stayed snuggled into his side before he shifted beside you, partially waking you up.

“C’mon sweetheart, let’s get you back to bed,” he said softly, but you protested as he tried to pull away.

“Don’t wanna,” you complained sleepily, holding on to his shirt as you buried your face in his side. “Tired of sleeping.”

There was a faint chuckle that rumbled through his chest. “You’re already sleeping.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Are you gonna open your eyes?”

There was a pause, and you really, really tried. Except it felt like you somehow forgot how to. “See,” he chuckled your name a moment later as he brushed your hair from your face. “Bedtime.”

“Noo,” you whined but to little avail. Your eyelids finally decided to work as he picked you up once more, carrying you like a bride back to his room, which gave your mind a muddled thought. You grabbed his tie as he set you down on his bed, “Kiss goodnight?”

There was a glint in his eye, as if he wanted to do far more than just a kiss. And personally, you didn’t think you would protest much if he tried. Except instead, there was nothing more than a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna warn you. The next chapter is going to include my attempt at smut. I don't often write it, so I'm nervous.
> 
> Also, as the story progresses, I'm realizing we may deviate from the movie's exact plot. Hopefully that doesn't bother you. I'm one of thosewriters that I allow a story to evolve on its own with some gentle nudging. But isn't it more interesting when you know what may happen, but you're not sure HOW it's going to happen???
> 
> *pause*
> 
> Hopefully?


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything just starts rolling downhill from here.
> 
> Edited 6/20/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is explicit sin ahead, so if that is not your cup of tea, feel free to jump to the next scene break when things become too steamy for you. It's been a long while since writing smut, so do forgive me if it's not up to par. Hopefully it doesn't ruin the story.
> 
> Which really, smut aside, this chapter is the start of the real plot beginning. I'm guessing no more than 10 more chapters after this, maximum. 
> 
> THIS CHAPTER IS ALSO >5K WORDS. WE HAVE REACHED 50K WORDS. AKA, THIS DAMN THING MEETS THE MINIMUM FOR A FREAKING NOVEL. *faints*

The owl was worn from its flight and enjoyed the fresh water and still warm rabbit offered in payment after dropping off its parcel. It ripped into its meal, completely oblivious to the curious expression on Grindelwald's face as he read the headline of the New York Ghost.

_ Another attack on No-Majs. MACUSA continues to be silent _

The note attached to the article proved even more promising. _Some kind of dark magic, possibly connected to old family no-maj scourers. No one can act because of Rappaport's law. Very interesting situation brewing._

Very interesting indeed. He had been sensing a strong power in his visions, dark but not really _Dark_. It was unlike anything he knew of, and it was completely neutral. If he could garner its favor, it would be perfect as a contingency weapon.

He jolted a quick note to his informant, plans already turning in his mind. Perhaps part of his fate laid in the Americas, where witches and wizards were oppressed the most, with muggles unknowingly lording over them. 

The spark of revolution already existed, perhaps it was time to fan the flames.

***  
When you woke up, there was a note waiting on the nightstand by the pictures.

_Something requires my attention. If you need anything, this stone is enchanted with a protean charm. If you need anything, it will notify myself and Queenie. Just rub it clockwise ._

_There’s soup in the kitchen. Elixir is the yellow, fever reducer is the green, and the red is the blood replenisher. Take all three at noon, please. Queenie left some novels if you're bored, or help yourself to any in my collection. Though they are more for reference than entertainment._

The stone was more like a small jewel, shining with an inner light and so utterly beautiful you were afraid to touch it. That, and you had no idea if you would accidently set it off. So instead, you crawled out of bed, taking a blanket with you as you shuffled to the kitchen, hungry. It was the same as before, looking rather odd without a stove, a fridge, or even a cold box. You expected the soup sitting on the granite countertop to be cold, or lukewarm at best. Instead it was piping hot when you sipped at it, settling into the seat of the breakfast nook.

About half a dozen cups sat on the table, with a more feminine handwritten note laying next to them. _These teas should help you feel better, and they taste much better than those potions._

You had to smile at yourself at the small post-script Graves had added. _Still take the potions._

Until you did actually take the potions, and nearly expelled everything back up afterwards. Then you were partially regretting following his advice, and questioned if you really needed them. After all, you were already feeling a lot better than you had from just yesterday. There were just a remnant of a cough and a slight chill.

The thought made your stomach twist in a different but still unsettling fashion. As soon as you were better, you were going to forget. Forget that not only had your rrzy suspicion had been right all along and Percival was an actual wizard, but you would forget everything about the man. You would forget that you had even met him. You would forget Nahuel. Even sweet Queenie. If you were honest with yourself, you...didn’t want to get better. Part of you wished you could stay ill, if it meant more time with Percival.

But the reality was you couldn’t exactly stay sick forever, depending on Percival’s and Queenie’s kindness. And besides, you missed Credence terribly, and were plagued with worries how he was taking your prolonged absence.

Instead of dwelling on those dark thoughts, you grabbed a book, a mug of tea, and settled in the armchair with a blanket. You quickly became enthralled by the mystery-romance that featured a witch and her cat. It was a great escape from reality, while also giving a little peek into this strange hidden world you found yourself in, if only temporarily. You weren’t sure how much of it was true and how much wasn’t, but you didn’t care.

You lost track of time, and jumped when Queenie suddenly appeared in the middle of the room with a small pop. She barely dodged the book you threw out of instinct. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she smiled, apparently unfazed by your reaction. She used her wand to lift the book and settled it on the low coffee table next to the empty tea mug as she took a seat on the couch across from you. “But I thought you might want some company.”

“No, that’s fine,” you breathed, still calming down from her sudden appearance. “Sorry I threw that.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it! When I startle my sister, she tends to throw curses, so really a book is nothing.” She summoned up a plate full of small sandwiches and two cups of cocoa. “Mr. Graves was worried about you too, even if he wouldn't admit it,” she said with a wink, making you blush slightly. “And Mr. Abernathy was being rather annoying this afternoon that I decided I would let him deal with the hex Delilah left on his desk.”

“A hex?” you asked distractedly, greedily stealing a sandwich. You were still quite hungry despite inhaling the soup earlier...but on second thought, that bowl of soup was probably a few hours ago. 

“Yeah, Delilah takes great pleasure in her coffee-stain hex. It sounds quite boring, but it drives him insane when every piece of paper on his desk develops a coffee stain out of nowhere. She actually invented it herself.”

That...was nothing like you expected a hex to be. You were thinking dark curses that brought failed crops, still-born babies, etc. Not a simple, almost silly, thing like that. Yet it seemed like a perfect way to get revenge, especially as Queenie explained who Abernathy was. 

The two of you sat and chatted for actual hours, and she didn’t seem to mind the least bit wasting the afternoon with you. If anything, she was as interested in your life as you were in hers. She explained how it was just her and her sister since their parents died when they were younger, and you explained how you had moved to New York to seek out a more interesting life. She had a desk job, though acted as a errand girl most of the time, and thought you were crazy for having two jobs, but admitted both sounded much more fun than her own. You also learned she loved beauty charms, and was excited when you agreed to let her try some on you.

“I’ve never had a no-maj friend before,” she gushed with a cheery attitude that was infectious as she had set you down at the writing desk that had been temporarily turned into a vanity. You were still amazed by the quick and easy transformation. Or, transfiguration as she called it, which was apparently her knack. “And, well, besides Tina, I don’t have many girlfriends.”

“You are the nicest person I know,” you argued, watching in wonder as she used her wand to style your hair. “So I find that hard to believe.” 

You never really had anyone just sit down and spend time with you like this, even before coming to New York. Most of the girls back home had been like the ones at the boarding house: disturbed and disgusted by your unladylike behavior. Even your own mother grew frustrated by your attitude at times so you had simply grown to accept that you would probably never really have a girlfriend. Yet you found a kinship in Queenie so quickly it was strange. 

“Well, I have coworkers I go out with,” she admitted, her smile fading slightly as she tugged at the corkscrew curl lightly before deciding it wasn’t what she wanted before tapping your hair with her wand again. She ran her nails across your scalp and it felt divine. “But, it’s hard to be friends with people when you can tell what their thinking. Vain, petty things that everyone thinks, but usually they keep quiet about. Except I still can hear it.”

“That...must be so lonely.” 

“It is what it is,” she said nonchalantly, though part of her smile returned. “Besides, I have my sister. She gets me, no matter what.” Her smile faltered again for a moment when she met your gaze in the mirror. “I think you and me could’ve been good friends too. You’re such a sweetie.” 

“I think so too,” you agreed with a sigh. “I’m...not the best at making friends. I mean, I have McNally who’s like an overbearing uncle, and Credence. But, that’s about it. Well, and Percival, but….”

Her frown echoed yours. “He...he cares for you, too. Though, I’m sure you know that.” She tried to smile, though it was more sad than anything. “In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never been anything but professionally distant. My sister Tina is one of his Aurors, ya know, and she says he’s never acted this way. So worried about someone to the point of distraction.” 

Your heart twisted uncomfortably in your chest. You had known he cared for you. No, he _loved_ you, he said so himself. But… “There’s a picture of a baby in his room. Does he…”

“Oh no, Mr. Graves doesn’t have any children,” she reassured quickly. “It might be one of his nieces, though him and his sister are estranged. No one knows what happened, but rumor has it that they hate each other so much they refuse to be in the same room as each other. I couldn’t imagine hating my sister, but every family is different, I suppose.” 

 

***

After Queenie had left, you had taken another nap after watching the baby again. It could be a baby girl, for all you knew, but it looked like a boy to you. But, you filed that thought away. It wasn’t your place to ask questions, and soon you wouldn’t even remember anything about it. So, what did it matter?

It was dark when you woke from your nap, with the only light coming from beneath the closed door, along with the faint sound of music wafting through the air. Curious and hungry, you crept across the room and cracked open the door. Unfamiliar jazz was playing softly, but you were more interested in the sight of Percival sitting at the writing desk piled with papers, his coat and vest abandoned haphazardly on the couch, leaving just his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms.

And black rimmed glasses perched on his face, which made you bite your lip as you leaned against the door frame. Maybe it was the potion, but a funny feeling fluttered in your chest at the scene, and you couldn’t help but crave more moments like this. There wasn’t anything special about it, but yet in its simplicity it felt...special. 

He glanced up briefly toward you, and had to do a double take that made you grin when you saw the surprised look on his face. “You look good,” you couldn’t help but tease, “I like the glasses.”

There was a faint color as he quickly removed them, folding them and sitting them on the stack of papers on his desk. “Old age catching up with me,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

You shook your head, feeling confident enough to leave your spot against the doorframe. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’ve slept plenty anyways. And I really do like how the glasses look on you.” You took the frames and playfully set them on your own face with a smile. “What do you think?”

That made a smile across his face as he stood, tucking your hair away from your face. “Beautiful as always.”

That wasn’t quite the reaction you expected. Your heart skipped a beat as you lost yourself in his gaze. He seemed to be as lost as well, his smile fading as he stroked your cheek thoughtfully. “You seem to be feeling better,” he finally whispered. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you responded quietly, “I-I mean it, Percival. Thank you for everything. I know your risking a lot for me, and I’m sorry for being such a hassle. I mean, look at that,” you rambled, taking the glasses off and gesturing at the tall stack of files. “And Queenie told me you’re running yourself ragged.”

You were interrupted as Percival put a finger on you lips, using your name to shush you gently. “You are far more important than that damned bureaucratic paperwork. Granted I’ll use any excuse to avoid it, which is why it accumulated so much.” The admission made you laugh softly, earning a small smile from him. “But you are by far the best excuse I had.”

You shook your head, laughing as he pulled you close, resting his chin on your head while his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I don’t care what happens, I regret nothing. You are by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You pressed closer to him, closing your eyes as you took in his scent, hearing his heart pound steadily against your ear. “I-I love you, Percival. Just...remember that.” 

“Sweetheart, I’m never going to forget that,” he reassured, pulling back enough to study your face. “There is no way I will forget you.” 

You leaned up for a chaste kiss, fingers teasing the hair at the nape of his neck. But while you meant it to be short and sweet, Percival seemed to have other ideas. He followed your lips as you pulled away, tightening his grip on you slightly. His kiss seemed desperate, and you had no qualms meeting it. Not when his hands gripped at your waist twisting in your gown as if he was scared you would disappear in a puff of smoke. You didn’t realize you were moving until the back of your legs hit the arm of the couch, causing you to lose your balance. You heard a quick curse from Percival as he tried to catch you, which only meant when you landed on the seat of the leather couch, you were pinned as Percival landed on top of you, still trying to cradle to you. 

“Shit. Are you okay?” he asked, easing his weight off you and onto his forearms on either side of your head. 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered, out of breath both from the fall and the near proximity of him. Especially as the adrenaline wane and your mind decided to travel down the gutter. “I-I’m fine. Thank you.”

He scoffed, “Don’t thank me, I’m the one who forgot this damn thing was there.”

“It’s fine….and it’s not exactly the worst position….” you trailed off, feeling a little nervous about the bold innuendo. You could feel your face warm, especially as his eyes darkened and he shifted so he was more or less straddling you. 

“No, it isn’t,” he crooned softly before capturing your lips once more, and there was absolutely no innocence in the act. His tongue invaded your mouth, leaving no chance to fight, not that you would. No, being dominated was definitely doing things for you. There was no stopping the moan that left your throat as his lips trailed to your neck, your collarbone, as his hand found the hem of your gown and quickly delved beneath, stroking the smooth skin of your thighs and hips. 

You went from being straddled by him to having his legs nestled between yours in a very obscene position. Screw dignity and all ethics and morals, because good _lord_ how you wanted this. You wanted him in the most basic, intimate way a woman could want a man. You tangled your fingers in his hair, encouraging him as he sucked hard at the skin beneath you ear, rubbing purposefully against the bulge pressed firmly against your aching crotch. He swore against your ear as he gripped at your backside and rocked hard against your hips, making you gasp and clutch even tighter.

“Damn it sweetheart,” he groaned against your skin, still grinding his hips against yours. “Much more of this and I’ll come in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

“Well then lose the pants,” was your thoughtless answer.

Your reply was answered with a very dangerous look. Your mind cleared for a brief moment as you realized the full depth of your words. 

“We probably shouldn’t,” his voice was hoarse, the roughness only kindling the feeling along with his hand that wandered along your upper thighs to the swell of your backside. The callus pads of his fingers tickled pleasantly against the tender skin as he skirt the hem of your underwear.

“Why not?” You daringly reached around to pull his shirt loose from his pants, letting you feel the skin covering the hard muscle of his back. You traced a pattern from his lower back around his hip to the soft hair near the buckle of his pants, earning a groan from him. 

"There's probably a hundred reasons why not.”

“I don’t care,” you answered frankly. “I want this. I want you, Percival.” You licked your lips, noticing his gaze lingering on your lips as he mimicked the gesture. “Please,” you tacked on quietly, and there was a definite fire to his eyes as he looked at you. You leaned up, kissing him slowly. “Please, Percival.”

“How can I deny you anything when you ask me like that?” He caved, and you were to distracted by his tongue meeting yours to notice his hands wandering until he lifted you up. You squeaked while your legs wrapped around his waist, modesty be damned as your nightgown hiked around your hips. Instead you were more interested at the new angle as you kissed him, grinning as he tried to focus between your lips and carrying you to the bedroom. He paused at the open door of the bedroom, pressing you against it as he took a moment to adjust his grip on you. You could feel the bulge in his pants had grown even harder, and moaned as you shifted against it. 

Honestly, you rather liked this position as you cupped his face, dominating the kiss. Being pressed against the doorade every movement of his hips grinded deliciously against yours. The only problem was there was no way to remove the offending layers of clothes that separated you from your prize.

As if to answer your thoughts, he managed to carry you the rest of the way before setting you down. The bed was soft as you landed on your back, Percival quickly finding a place atop of you, one arm braced against the mattress as your tongue resumed its dance with his. His hips continued to part your legs, his free hand exploring the bare skin between your knee and hip, slowly creeping upwards. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, slowly rocking against you, making you whine. “So soft. Merlin, you drive me insane.”

“You’re the one driving me crazy,” you teased back distractedly, earning a wicked half smile as he pulled away. 

“You want crazy?” 

You should have been warned by that look, and instead warmth pooled between your legs. His fingers hooked around the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down off your hips. Soft noises escaped your lips as you shifted against him, helping him remove the garment. You expected him to make short work of his own rumpled clothes when he moved, but instead he lowered himself until he was able to press kisses to the inner part of your bent knee.

Oh dear lord, you didn’t realize how arousing that was. There was a proud look on his face at your whine while he continued to press soft kisses to your legs, taking his time working his way up. Occasionally he would suck hard against the soft flesh of your thigh, or nip lightly but still hard enough to leave a mark. “P-Percival,” you whimpered, “please.”

“Please what, my dear?” he whispered as he reached an inch from your crotch, only to switch from to the other, giving it the same slow, deliberate attention. 

“P-please. Higher.”

“Higher?” he pushed your nightgown up further, revealing your stomach before pressing his lips against the flesh of where hip met leg, so close and yet so far from where you ached for him. 

“Percival Graves, I swear,” you grounded out aggravatedly, glaring down at his tousled black hair.

“Mmm, I hope so,” he murmured against your skin, his dark eyes glittering with mischief as he glanced up. “I rather like the idea of having you begging me to fuck you.” Any protest was cut short as he guided one leg over his shoulder before his broad tongue slowly dragged up between your folds, and the sudden touch made you curse as you bucked against him. 

“Yes, rather like that.” He grinned, and the only response from you was a moan as he continued to lick between the folds, sucking slightly on your clit. “Just like that sweetheart. As loud as you want.”

Your hands twisted in the blankets beneath you, your breath turning into ragged gasps as his tongue found your entrance. “Fuck. Please. Please,” you begged, trying to hold your hips back from grinding against him but failing. You weren’t far from that edge, and you were sure it was only a matter of seconds until you came from his mouth alone as he dipped his broad tongue inside you.

And then the bastard moved. Lips still wet from your own fold, he kissed you firmly, the taste odd but quickly forgiven as two of his thick fingers suddenly slipped inside you, filling you more than your own ever could. “You're so wet for me,” he groaned as he broke the kiss, letting your sharp gasp escape as you cried his name. He slowly dragged his fingers out, before thrusting them back in as deep as he could, making you cry louder. “And so fucking tight. Merlin, I can’t wait to feel how tight you’ll be around my cock.”

Just the thought of him inside you, filling you completely along with a few more hard, deep strokes sent you over the edge, your nails digging into the back of his shirt and his name on your lips. He murmured gently in your ear as he milked you off your high. Things like how beautiful you were, how much he loved hearing you say his name like that. How much he wanted to hear you scream it. 

How much he loved you. 

When you finally came down from your high, he was stroking your cheek gently, a warm look in his eye as he studied your face. Memorizing every part of it. “You were perfect,” he said softly. “So very perfect.”

“You’re still dressed,” you pointed out, voice still a little breathy. “How are you still dressed?”

“Because I wanted to see you come undone first,” he admitted as he kissed you again. “I may have been dreaming of it for months now.”

The admission helped you gather yourself and attempt to make short work on the buttons of his shirt. You could feel him smiling against your lips, and he seemed to take great delight in making you fumble, especially as he slipped a hand beneath your nightgown to grasp your breast. Your fingers faltered as you arched into him, a soft moan escaping you as his thumb brushed the hard point of your nipple. There was a grin on his face as he managed to tug your nightgown off, frustrating you for a very short moment. Here you were, trying to get at least his shirt off and he already had you completely naked.

Granted, seeing that devilish grin on his face, framed by disheveled hair and a half-buttoned shirt was almost worth it alone. 

And then that sinful mouth of his captured your other nipple, giving slow licks and sucking gently, making you forgive him of everything. His hand continued to play with the other breast, squeezing and kneading and made you writhe beneath him as your hand tangled in his hair.

Something snapped and with a growl you pushed him over so he was laying on his back, and you were straddling his legs. It was his turn to look surprised while you grinned down at him. You took control, peppering his jaw and neck with kisses and slight bites as you finally got his shirt unbuttoned by just ripping at it. He allowed you to push it off his shoulders, and you took a moment to appreciate the sight of the strong muscles of his shoulders and arms; how his chest had a very fine amount of hair, enough to tickle your fingers as you traced down along his sternum to his stomach

Your gaze met his; dark and warm, especially as his hands traveled along your thighs, his skin rough against your own smooth flesh. You bent down to capture his lips in a kiss as you worked on the fastenings on his pants. the groan as your hands wrapped around his hard cock made you grin in triumph.

“Sweetheart, please,” it was his turned to beg as you slowly squeezed his length, tracing your nails lightly along him as you dragged your hand up and down. His head pressed back against the pillow as he panted your name as your thumb brushed away the bead of precum on the head of his penis. “Oh, honey, please.”

“I should make you as crazy as you made me,” you hummed, gripping him tighter as you continued to work your hand up and down. “Turnabout is fair play.”

You could tell he was close just by the look he gave you as he uttered your name. “I will beg you, plead for you, do anything you want me to. Just please. Let me feel you around me.”

You were so tempted to draw it out, but you didn’t know if you could stand it yourself. Your mind easily imagining how his large girth was going to feel inside you, stretching and filling you completely. It was making you ache, growing even wetter as your hands left his cock and you shifted yourself over him. Some non-lust fueled part of your brain was able to break through the haze and reminded you that while you fooled around with boys back home, you had never taken them in.

You weren’t going to remember your first time.

You really didn’t care at this point.

You bit your lip as you eased down, his hands gripping at your hips. Your mind was caught between the painful pleasure of his cock stretching you, filling you completely and watching Percival groan, fingers digging into your hips as his head tipped back. Your own fingers pressed against the firm muscles of abdomen as you both caught your breath.

This was far more than any fingers of your previous boyfriends. You adjusted yourself with a slight hiss, with a sharp buck from him. He opened his eyes as you stalled for another moment, calling your name softly. There was a brief moment of panic at the sharp look in his eye. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Uh, maybe?” you admitted, resulting in a string of curses from him. “I’m fine,” you insisted, feeling flustered for the first time since kissing him as doubt threatened to overwhelm you. “Just...give me a moment.”

Except he didn’t. Before you really could understand, he had pulled out and you were laying on your back once more. You expected annoyance, maybe even anger. Honestly, you weren’t exactly sure what to expect, but it wasn’t feathered kisses against your jaw and neck as his fingers found your sore entrance. “You’re so stubborn,” he murmured in your ear, fingers massaging you, slowly pulling in and out. “You should’ve said something.”

“Sorry,” you whispered. The lingering pain was fading, becoming replaced with that familiar yearning. “I knew it would hurt, but…”

He cut you off with a kiss. “Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you.”

You wanted to argue--he had done that for you already, you wanted to return the favor-- but the words died on your lips as he shifted and entered you slowly. And, okay, this angle was a little less painful. There was still an ache as his cock stretched you out again but as he started to move slowly and gently it faded. The slow pace started off easy as you adjusted to him his lips distracted you as he pressed kisses to your collarbone and along your neck. Interspersed with him groaning about how perfectly wet and tight you were. How much he had dreamed of fucking you in bis bed.

Eventually the slow thrusts became maddening as you starting to grind your hips to meet his thrusts. “Harder,” you begged, nails digging into his back. “More. Please.”

“Merlin.” he swore, his hands intertwined with yours as he complied. “Beg me sweetheart.”

You were too lost in the feeling of him thrusting harder inside of you to feel any shame. “Fuck me,” you begged again with a moan. “Fuck me hard Percival. Please!”

“Again” he grunted in your ear, thrusting as you complied. 

“Fuck me, Percival!”

He swore your name against your throat. “I love hearing you say my name like that,” he moaned, tangling his hand in your hair as the other gripped your hip to try and bring you even closer. Every thrust was pounding his bed against the wall, the sharp noise breaking up the gasps and grunts as he continued his hard, quick pace. “I want you to scream when I make you come.”

He got his wish with a few more hard thrusts. Your fingers dug in deep as you came, shuddering around him. You were only half aware as he swore your name again, his thrusts becoming harder and erratic before you felt him come inside you, somehow filling you even more.

You had no clue as to how long both of you laid like that, both breathing hard as the sweat cooled on your skin. Finally, he shifted as he pulled out, rolling off of you and laying on his back next to you. You winced as you rolled on your side He seemed to notice, a faint frown settling on his face. “Was I too rough?” he asked, brushing your hair away from your face.

“No, that was...amazing, honestly,” you answered after a moment. “I’m sure I’ll be better tomorrow.”

He hesitated before pressing a kiss to his forehead, pulling you closer. You curled into his side, head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “I’ll get something for it tomorrow, I promise.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted, eyes closing as you tried to memorize what this felt like. Having his arm around you, being able to listen to his heartbeat slow into a strong and steady beat. Being surprised and rather delighted as he was able to conjure a blanket to cover both of you, meaning you didn’t have to move a single inch. 

“Stubborn,” he answered fondly with his hand running through your hair. 

“Get use to it,” you answered without thinking. You didn’t notice when he paused, or see the smile on his face falter. “I love you.”

There was a moment before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you too.”

***

She really needed to stop spending so much money on hotdogs. 

Tina munched on the mustard-ladened hotdog, musing she’d be more likely to try out for Quidditch than stop her addiction the no-maj food. It was a comfort food, and with things the way the were, she needed it. With everything going on, it was no wonder she had gained a few pounds. 

Not that it showed, or so Queenie assured her several times as she pinched at the flesh of her hips silently every morning. 

Speaking of Queenie, there was a blonde woman that looked quite a bit like her baby sister walking towards ~~Credence~~ the Barebone boy. Who she may or may not be tailing instead of watching the Second Salemers’ church. It was hard watching that woman be so harsh to those orphans that only flocked to her for a bite to eat. 

And Credence….She felt so bad for him, especially learning of his background. And she felt even worse knowing there was nothing she could do to help. Before, a smile crossed his face in the mornings as he fled the church to work at the no-maj grocery store. It was easy to se he found peace there, a purpose. And when he returned home at night, it was like a man waking to the gallows. 

But something had changed in the last week. Misery seemed to weigh him down even more, making him rarely look up from the ground. And she never saw a hint of a smile anymore, even as Graves’ cat followed him everywhere. 

Wait.

Tina narrowed her eyes as the woman gently touch Credence’s shoulder to catch his attention. She knew that fluffy pink coat and perfect smile. She could even see the tip of Queenie’s mother-of-pearl wand handle.

Tina shoved the last piece of hot dog in her mouth before rushing across the street, heedless of the no-maj cars blaring their horns while slamming on their breaks. Has she lost her mind?! To openly approach a no-maj in broad daylight… well, okay, it was after sunset, but the point still stood. 

Credence looked as stunned as Queenie talked with him, a sunny smile on her face. As Tina neared, she could hear her: “...she’s fine, and she’s been terribly worried about you. I’m sure she’ll be back in a few days, but I just wanted to let you know that she didn’t abandon you.” 

“Queenie!” Tina hissed as she grabbed her sister's arm. It was hard not to notice the stunned, fearful look on the boy’s face. “Sorry,” she apologized, mind scrambling for an excuse. “My sister...my sister’s, um….”

Credence didn’t pay her any mind, his dark eyes focusing only on Queenie. “Y-you really know her?” he asked quietly, hope appearing in his eyes that were always so haunted as he spoke your name. It about shocked Tina out of her shoes. “She’s really okay?” 

Queenie’s smile grew, though there was something in it that tipped Tina off. A slight twitch in her cheek that often developed when she uncovered something unsettling. “Yeah, honey. She still has a nasty fever and cough, but she’ll pull through in no time.” 

The smile that appeared on his face about broke Tina’s heart. He was always so depressed, and to see him smile, actually close enough to really appreciate it....

It really was something else.

But how was he connected with you, Director Graves’ secret no-maj lover? You...Merlin, you weren’t a part of the Second Salemers, were you?

“You’re welcome, sweetie.” Queenie gave one last smile to the boy, and in the end was the one to lead Tina way. She gripped the hand on her arm tight, pulling Tina along as she tried to figure out a connection between you and Credence. The only thing she could say for sure was that Graves had an awful lot of secrets in that closet of his. 

“Sorry,” Queenie apologized after they had put a block between Credence and themselves, breaking Tina out of her thoughts. “But Mr. Grave’s ladyfriend has been worrying about him, even though she won’t say as much.” 

“Don’t tell me she’s one of them too,” Tina asked pessimistically, wiping the mustard from the corners of her lips before licking her fingers as an afterthought. As if it wasn’t bad enough her boss was harboring a no-maj, and her sister had become fast friends with her. 

“Oh no!” Queenie assured with a faint smile. “She hates his mother just as much as you do, maybe even more.” There was a long pause as they walked back towards their apartment building before Queenie broke the silence again. “You’ve been keeping an eye on them, right?” 

“Something like that,” Tina dodged. Her sister knew she couldn’t exactly talk about some of her cases, especially ongoing investigations. But the frown on her face made her curious. “Why?” 

“Something…” Queenie started quietly before pausing, trying to figure out how to exactly put her thoughts into words. “Something is...wrong with that boy. I don’t know how to explain it. I mean, most no-majs are loud with their thoughts. It’s like their speaking out loud. But…”

Tina’s frown only deepened. “But what?” 

“It’s hard to explain,” Queenie repeated, her blue eyes distant. “But it's almost like he has something hidden. Like he was attempting occlumency, but unlike anything I’ve encountered before. I didn’t even notice until he lost his focus for a moment.” 

That had all of Tina’s Auror instincts on edge. Because she felt something like that too around him. That something was just faintly off. Like a glamour spell that was a little too perfect. “What is he hiding, Queenie?”

There were tears in her eyes as she looked down at her. “Pain. Rage. Fear. It just...hurt. Just so much hurt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask me where this name-kink for Graves came from. I honestly don't know.


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tina gets in over her head, Queenie proves she is an awesome and caring friend, and Graves has a very bad day.
> 
> Edited 6/20/18

This was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

Tina kept repeating the mantra over and over in her mind, but still lurked around the alleyway across from the Barebone’s home. It was well after midnight yet a light was on in the church-like home. Usually the creature had made an appearance by now. The moon was full and bright, so she doubt the black cloud had slinked into the night air without her noticing. 

What Queenie had said earlier echoed in her mind and only cemented her hunch that Credence knew something. He _had_ to. What she wouldn’t give to be able to talk to him for just a minute. 

Nearby churches rung as the clock struck one in the morning, and she tried and failed to suppress a yawn. What was she doing? Surely the boy was in there, in bed. Asleep. Like she should be.

Except, he wasn’t. She instinctively hid as he appeared from around the corner, a familiar cat in his arms. Mr. Graves’ half-wampus. Again. She swore that cat never went far from him. Tina was a fraction for a moment away from stepping out into the light to confront them, only to have the door of the Second Salemers home slam open, spooking her back into the shadows. The wampus hissed at Mary Lou from Credence’s arms, the fur on his back raising. 

Great. A wampus attack was they last thing they needed right now. 

“Drop that vile thing and come here,” Mary Lou commanded with an intense look of hate on her face. Even from her position, Tina could see the fear and hesitation that flared on Credence’s face. She gripped her wand tightly, mind and spirit fighting for control. She needed to leave. She needed to Apparate home, have a cup of cocoa and forget about what she saw. Forget the expression on the boy’s face as he gently let the wampus down. Forget the pitiful yowl as the wampus tried to block Credence. 

But Credence stepped over him, walking towards Mary Lou like a man heading to his execution. 

She needed to leave when the door closed behind the two. 

She followed instead.

***

You woke in a panic at the alarm, grabbing a pillow and ready to throw it as the lights flared to life. By the time your eyes adjusted to the bright light, Percival was already halfway across the room, clothes readying themselves for him in midair. 

“Perc?” you asked, heart still pounding in your chest as your lowered the pillow, and clutched it to your bare chest instead. 

He paused mid-button as he glanced back at you for a moment, a thousand emotions flashing across his face. “Emergency,” he explained as he finished dressing. “I might be gone for a while. I’ll send Queenie if I’m too long.”

You shook your head, reminding yourself he as the director of the magical equivalent of the police. Of course there were midnight emergencies that required his attention. “Don’t worry about me. Just…just be careful.” You pulled his pillow tighter to your stomach, still able to smell his distinct scent on it, which did bring at least a little comfort. “Come back to me in one piece, that’s all I ask.” 

His face softened as he donned his coat before he stepped across the room, bending over to steal a soft kiss. “I’ll do my best,” he reassured quietly, caressing your cheek before standing and disappearing with a pop you were slowly becoming used to. 

You pressed your face against his pillow, taking comfort as you breathed in his scent. He had been doing this for years, you reminded yourself. Far before you had ever met him. Of course he would be okay. He was the director, after all. 

Still, your stomach turned and you were fairly sure you weren't going to be able to sleep any time soon. Not until you knew he was safe. 

***

It was four in the morning, and Percival would give anything to be back in bed, enjoying his last few hours with you. He had dreamt of having you in his arms, in his bed, for so long. Even with the inevitable casting a dark cloud over everything, he would give anything to go back home and crawl beneath the covers with you. 

Instead, he was sitting in an interrogation room across from Tina, nursing a cup of coffee and a headache. It had taken nearly two hours to clean up the mess after Tina stormed the Second Salemers home, tossing Rapaport’s law out the window and Avada Kedavra-ing it. Two hours of scouring the city for the children that had been sleeping in the home-slash-church. Two hours of dealing with Mary Lou Barebones, who fought against every spell they had thrown at her to subdue her. Even though they had been sure to obliviate her several times for good measure, he wondered if she would truly forget about the entire incident or if she would somehow remember parts of it. Which would only add fuel to her tirade against them and increase the risk for complete exposure of the magical world even more.

Merlin, he wished he could be sipping at something stronger than coffee. 

“Why, Tina?” he asked, finally breaking the silence. The young woman only flinched a little, her head bowed and shoulders hunched over as she refused to look up. “Just...why? What were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, a hint of a quiver in her voice. “But I couldn’t just stand by. That woman is so mean to all those children, but especially poor Credence. She beats him so much and he was late tonight and I knew it was going to be bad. I just…” She paused, taking a breath. Tina finally looked up, her eyes red and watery as she finished: “I couldn’t let him get hurt.” 

Percival sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He hated it when people started to cry around him. Especially women. “He’s a no-maj, Tina,” he stated firmly but not harshly. “We can’t do anything for him. We can’t do anything for any of them.” 

“But he’s not, sir.” He paused at her words, looking up. Yes, her eyes were still teary and red, but there was a firmness in them. That tenacity she was known for. “He’s not just a no-maj. He’s a squib.”

He was quiet for a moment, trying to recover from his brief loss of control over his emotions. “A squib is still a no-maj,” he said calmly despite his chest aching as something squeezed tightly around his heart. “They…”

“How can you say that?” she suddenly interrupted him, surprising him with the vehemence in her voice. “How can you just sit there and ignore him? Sir, he’s your _nephew._ ”

Silence permeated the room as she glared at him with red, tear-stained eyes. There was a hard, judging look in her eyes despite the tears. She knew. Of course she knew. She was one of his best, and obviously far too smart for her own good. 

“The law is the law,” he said firmly after a moment. “No matter what. No matter who the no-maj or squib is.”

Tina paused for a moment, and there was something in her expression that made him wonder how good Queenie was at keeping things from her sister. Because if she knew, she would know how much of a hypocrite he was being. Except...except soon, he would have to enforce the law. Soon he was going to lose you.

Thankfully the look on Tina’s face passed as she glanced away, her righteous anger fading. “I...I’m sorry sir,” she said quietly. “It’s just so frustrating. He is such a sweet boy, and he doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“I know,” he sighed heavily, admitting the truth. “I’ve watched the boy since my sister abandoned him on that woman’s doorstep.” He had only spent a few years with Credence before he was declared a squib, but he had grown to love him too much to just forget him as his sister and parents did.

And how it hurt to see Credence treated as he was. How many times did he come close to doing the same thing she had? He had searched for any loophole in the laws that would let him do anything, even if it was just to place him with a new family. But there was none. Nothing he could do short of committing treason.

“But why her? Why would she leave her child to a known scouring family?”

Because his sister was a sociopath with no capability for emotion. Because she had a twisted sense of humor. “Because his father is Mary Lou’s late husband.” 

The revelation silenced any further questions from Tina as she tried to digest that tidbit of information. “Either way, what you did tonight was inexcusable. Inexcusable for anyone, let alone an Auror such as yourself.” Tina flinched at his words, and he could see the tears shed had been holding back finally track down her face. It made his following words even harder to get out. “You are being removed from the investigation squad and being reassigned to the wand permit office.”

“What!” Tina gasped,“Wait! No! Please, sir! Give me another chance! I promise...I promise I will….”

“Tina,” he interrupted her before she could continue. “This is nonnegotiable. Picquery was ready to dismiss you and snap your wand. Be glad I was able to convince her to just reassign you. Keep your head down and your nose clean, and I’ll do my best to make this temporary.” 

Tina gripped her wand tightly, her teeth clenched together tightly as she struggled to maintain her composure. “W-who’s going to monitor the Second Salmers?” she finally asked in a soft voice. “I know that thing is connected to them.”

“No one,” he stated remorsefully. They had been so close. So close to a break in this damn case. Hell, if Picquery would have given him the green light, he could have had this case finished by now. “We can’t risk another incident. Not with them. We’ll go back to monitoring remotely.” 

Tina bowed her head once more, and Graves’ stomach twisted when he heard her slight sniffles, especially as her shoulders began to shake.She nodded her head. “Yes sir. I’m-I’m sorry for failing you.” 

He sighed as he stood, moving around the table, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Look. Everyone messes up, usually more than once. You had your heart in the right place, at least. Just...toe the line, and maybe I can persuade Madam Picquery that you learned your lesson.” 

*** 

You had drifted back to sleep after a few hours, though it wasn’t exactly restful as you tossed and turned. Your dreams left you uneasy once you woke. You had no clue what time it was, only that it was sometime before noon judging by the fact the sun was not quite at its zenith. 

Either way, Percival wasn’t back. 

And, ow, your lower half hurt when you went to stand. You hissed as you stood slower. There were bruises on your thighs and hips, though you knew the pain wasn’t from them, but inside. A glance back revealed a small bloodstain on the bed sheet, making you feel incredibly guilty. Not for the act, but for the mark on what you were sure to be expensive sheets. You knew how hard blood was to get out, especially since it had all night to set in. 

As soon as you were dressed you stripped the bed and filled the clawfoot tub with cold water. It was the least you could after everything. Granted, you hadn’t seen any soap or a washboard, and weren’t quite up to the task of looking just yet. So you allowed it to soak as you went and finished Queenie’s leftovers for breakfast. The roast was still warm and moist more than a day later, but you still weren’t able to fully enjoy it. You were antsy, sore and and feeling more than a little helpless. Sitting and waiting was not your forte, especially now that you were no longer sick. You tried to distract yourself with reading, but it didn’t work. The words refused to knit together and every few pages you found yourself staring at something else, lost in thought.

Was Percival okay? Was it that cloud thing? Did it hurt him?

A pop broke your concentration, and the book went flying as Queenie appeared literally out of thin air. She neatly side stepped to avoid the book, but didn’t have the same smile as yesterday. 

Instead she looked tired and her smile rather strained as she bent down to pick up the would-be weapon. “Sorry,” you apologized as she handed you the book. “I really need to stop doing that.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she reassured, sounding as tired as she looked as she sat in the armchair across from you. “I just came to see how you were doing. Tina...well, she’s having a bad day and wanted some space. And I already told Abernathy I was taking the day off.” 

“I’m okay,” you answered, but she frowned as she met your eyes. 

“Honey, you’re not really good at lying,” she replied, her head tilted slightly. “You can tell me, it’s okay.”

“Okay, so I’m a little anxious,” you admitted, “and...sore.” That was all you felt comfortable sharing. You didn’t exactly want to admit how much of a mess you were inside. Both from worry about Percival and the weight of your actions weighing down on you.

“Oh!” She flushed as she averted her eyes and stood back up, and you belatedly remembered her trick of being able to read minds. You felt incredibly embarrassed as you flush and curled into a tighter ball in the armchair. “I’ll-I’ll be right back.”

She apparated before you could think to say anything, leaving you completely mortified. You wanted to sink into the chair and disappear. Oh good Lord, you were barely able to admit to yourself what you did, and she was able to see exactly what was replaying over and over in your mind. What she must think of you. And here you had considered her a friend, that was certainly not the case anymore. You were almost glad you would forget.

No. You would never be happy about that. You would take a million embarrassing moments if you could just keep your memory of Percival. You wish it would take all your memories of magic, Queenie, everything. Just don’t take him away.

Queenie appeared again after an agonizing few minutes startling you. She seemed completely oblivious as she pulled two small vials from her purse. “Okay, so this will help with the pain, and this one is a contraceptive,” she explained as she handed you the small vials, a faint smile on her face and that little gleam returning to her blue eyes. “And I’ll take care of the sheets. I’m not the best with housework, but I’ve had enough practice with bloodstains.”

That...was not the reaction you expected. That was actually the exact opposite from what you had anticipated. Her blatant acceptance confused you; she was acting like it was an everyday occurrence and not something shameful. Which, you just slept with a man that wasn’t your husband. Nor would he ever be. Anyone else would be mortified, and condemn you for your actions. Instead she had a faint smile as she stepped into the bathroom, and when she emerged a few moments later, the bedsheet was unblemished as it floated across to the bedroom. 

She seemed to notice your shock when she turned towards you. “Don’t worry,” she gave you a smile. “Those potions taste much better than those other ones. Almost like cake and chocolate.”

You looked down at the cream and chocolate colored vials. That hadn't even really crossed your mind. “You’re not...” you trailed off, unable to find the right words. Your parents would be ashamed. McNally would be pissed. Shapiro would be boasting that she had been right all along. Anyone else would be at least condemn you for your actions. 

“What?” Her nose wrinkled slightly as she frowned, probably hearing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “I know no-majs had funny ideas about that, but honestly. It’s none of my business what you do or who you sleep with. It’s nobody’s business what happened. Besides I know how much you two care for each other. That’s all that matters.” 

The blunt answer struck at your heart, and was the last straw. Between the worry for Percival, the worry of the consequences of your actions, the impending future of having your memories erased and losing the man you loved forever, it was just too much. You curled in the armchair, pressing your chin to your knees as you tried not to cry. 

“Oh honey,” Queenie soothed as she sat on the arm of the chair and pulled you close, running her hand through your hair, like your mother use to do with you when you were a child. Just like you would do with Credence.

Oh, Lord. Credence. You missed him so much. Part of you wanted to go find him right away, pull him into a tight hug and never let go. But at the same time, that meant returning to the real world and leaving all of this behind. Leaving Percival behind. You would remember nothing of the last couple of months. Nothing from last night, from how handsome he was with his glasses to the way he made you scream. 

Would your heart still ache, even if you didn’t remember? It seem impossible you would ever forget how much you loved him. But, magic had been equally impossible to you before all of this. 

Queenie allowed you to cry on her shoulder until you could breathe again, and felt guilty at the tear stains on her silk dress. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you apologized as you wiped at your face. 

“My sister’s been crying on my shoulder all day,” she reassured you softly, combing your hair with her fingers. “It’s an easy fix, so don’t you worry about it. Now, take those potions while I run home. The sooner you take the Silphium, the better. Meanwhile, I’m going to get some of my soaps for you. I’m sure a good hot bath will do you a ton of good.”

“You done so much for me already,” you protested. “There’s no way I can repay you.”

Queenie gave you a soft smile. “Honey, that’s what friends are for. If I was in the same boat, I know you would do the same.”

***

It was well into the afternoon when Percival could finally slip away from Macusa. Even with the chaos that had descended, you had been on his mind throughout the day. It wasn’t anything new, you were always on his mind of late. Yet somehow today was different. Because he knew waiting for him. A small memo-mouse had scuttled in his office around noon from Queenie earlier stating: ‘I dropped off Silphium and a pain tonic.’ It had puzzled him until he checked what Silphium was. A contraceptive. 

He was grateful for Queenie’s action, of course. He hadn’t even considered that no-maj’s didn’t have contraceptives readily available. But at the same time, the idea made his heart ache. He had no doubts you would be an amazing mother, especially seeing you with Credence those few times. And the idea that he would be able to be the father of your child, that he could have that idyllic family that he had already accepted he would never have, left a bitter sweet taste in his mouth and plagued his thoughts. 

He stopped at the small deli not far from the Woolworth building for a couple sandwiches and drinks before Apparating home. He wasn’t sure how much of Queenie’s leftovers was left, but he figured it would be a nice gesture. Plus the fact you weren’t able to brew your own coffee. 

Except the apartment was quiet when he arrived. You weren’t curled up in a chair like he half expected. The bed in the bedroom was neatly made, the covers looking freshly washed. The kitchen was empty except for a few unwashed dishes. 

Had he been that much of a love-struck fool? He had placed his trust in you without even thinking that you would run when given the chance. He had bared all those secrets, relieved in a way he no longer had to hide anything from you, even if in the end he would lose you. 

As if his day couldn’t get worse. 

The bathroom door suddenly opened and you emerged, dressed in a new dress he was sure Queenie had made while ruffling your damp hair with a towel. When you glanced up and saw him, the smile you gave him when you looked up made him forget all of his fears, his worries, everything. 

“Percival! I was wondering when you would…” you trailed off as he suddenly crossed the room, lunch and drinks forgotten, and pressed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss. You gripped at his shirt as he tangled his hands in your damp hair as he dominated the kiss, acting as if it had been days and not just hours since you saw each other. When you broke away, your mind was silent as his forehead pressed against yours, his fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck while you ran your fingers along his black silk tie, both taking the time to simply enjoy the moment as you caught your breath. 

“Good morning to you too,” you finally breathed with a small smile, opening your eyes to meet his.

“Afternoon, actually,” he quipped with a warm look in his dark eyes, finally smiling as you hit him playfully. 

“Oh, shush you. Do you even own a clock?” you asked, “I have seen everything but a clock.” He pulled out his wand, and with a flick the image of a clock appeared mid air. “Show off,” you complained cheekily.

His smile only grew as he took a step back to admire your dress. “I see Queenie stopped by.” The cut fit you perfectly, hugging in the right places while the deep rich color complimented your complexion perfectly, especially as your blush deepened the longer his gaze lingered. He had never really paid much attention to Queenie’s famous transfiguration skills before, but right now he could see why there was always a low-key buzz about the witch’s skills. 

He would still rather see you without it. 

“Yeah,” you tucked a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “She dropped this off and some other things. I, uh, hope you don’t mind I used your bath.”

One eyebrow raised slightly, “Of course not. I did get your rather sweaty last night.” The blush that had been fading flared back to life.

“Yes, you did,” you said quietly. And you really wanted stay in that mood, you wanted to have that warm morning-after that had been robbed from both of you. 

But there was a somber look in his eye despite his smile that made you worry. “Queenie told me you were having a rough day, but said you were okay. You...are okay, right?” You frowned at the expression that flashed across his face. He didn’t say anything for a while, but simply played with your hair mindlessly, unsettling your stomach. Maybe it was worse than you thought. Or maybe he couldn't talk about it. 

“You didn’t run,” he finally said, completely confusing you. 

“What?”

“You’re not sick anymore. You know everything, including that I have to obliviate you. But you didn’t run when you had the chance.” 

You frowned as you glanced towards the door. It hadn’t even crossed your mind, honestly. But, even if it had…. “I couldn’t do that to you,” you answered. “I mean, I’ve read your books, I know you're breaking some rather serious laws for me.” It had floored you when you read about Rappaport’s law. Especially when _death_ was a possible penalty. “I couldn’t betray you like that. Not after everything you’ve done for me.” 

His arms slipped around your waist, holding you tightly against him for a long moment, pressing a kiss to your hair. You rested your head against his chest, holding him just as tight. You had been so worried all day, even with Queenie’s reassurances. But here he was, safe and without a noticeable scrape. Yet at the same time, you knew something was wrong. More than just his worry that you may have fled. 

“Percival, what’s wrong?” you asked, pulling away so you could look up into his dark eyes. 

Dark eyes that looked torn for a long moment before he finally spoke. “...do you remember that thing you met a few weeks ago? That black cloud?”

Your brows knitted together, “Of course.” It would be impossible to forget that night. The destruction it had left in its wake. Percival appearing out of nowhere. Finding out magic really did exist, and realizing that the world was far different than what you knew. 

“We’re still trying to figure out what it is,” he admitted. “And we were close. So damn close.”

He explained everything as you settled into his couch, gratefully accepting the steaming mug of coffee and sandwich. How Queenie’s sister Tina has been shadowing the Second Salmers. How frustrating it was that they knew the thing was linked to them, but unable to act because of Rappaport’s law. 

Then Tina saw Mary Lou punish Credence. You lost your appetite immediately at that, fury rising quickly in your chest. You were going to kill that woman. And dear Lord, Credence. Here you were, sitting safe and sound in Percival’s luxurious apartment while he was out there, still putting up with that wicked woman. 

“To top the insanity,” he continued, running his hand through his thick hair. “Goldstein abandoned all common sense and hexes the damn woman. Right in front of everyone.”

You couldn't help the sharp bark of laughter, clapping your hands in glee. “Oh I wish I could have seen that!” To see that awful woman realise that magic was real, and watch her get what she deserved. 

The deadpan look on Percival’s face showed he wasn’t as amused as you, but before you could apologize, mainly for interrupting, he shook his head. “As much as the thought of that Scourer being hexed, the fact is it was the worst possible thing to do. None of my aurors are allowed anywhere near there. Now if that damn thing appears, we won't know until after the fact.”

There was a long silence that followed. You could tell he was lost in thought as he sipped at his coffee. You wished there was something you could do, someway you could help. But how could you do anything when your memory would soon be wiped of anything related to magic. 

Percival suddenly tilted his head, looking at you oddly. You paused mid bite, a little unsettled by the way he was looking at you. A dry gulp later and you asked: “Percival….”

“I’ve been given strict instructions that none of my Aurors can become involved with the Second Salemers,” he stated as if uncovering a revelation. “But you’re a no-maj.”

The non sequitur confused you for a moment, twisting your train of thought as you tried to understand what he was getting at, but to little avail. “Okay…?”

“This thing is threatening both of our worlds,” he explained, his stare intense. “It’s too much of a risk to let a lead like this go. I need you.” 

“What?” You paused, shaking your head. “What could I do? I don’t have magic, I don’t have any fancy training or anything like that. Besides, Rappaport's law….”

“This thing is bigger than any damned law,” he swore. ”You saw that thing. And it paused, it reacted to you. It had never done that before, and never since. Besides the fact you can talk to Credence. None of us can do that, but you can.”

He looked so adamant. So positive. But you could only shake your head, sliding to your feet with a hysterical laugh. “And say what? Hey, have you seen a dark cloud-thing tearing up the streets? Would you kindly tell it to knock it off? I’m no Auror. I’m not even witch. I’m waitress and a cashier. I’m nothing!” 

Percival stood up, quickly grabbing your wrist and pulling you still. “Look at me,” he commanded as you tried to pull away. He called your name firmly, still holding on to you. “Look. At. Me.”

You finally met his eyes, noticing the stern look in them. “You are not nothing. You are so much more than that. Merlin it would take me forever to list everything that makes you so wonderful. But right now, you are my only hope. I’m all out of options, and I don’t know what else to do.”

You took a few breaths, and Percival let go of your wrists so he could twine his fingers with yours. “This is crazy.”

“Probably one of the worst plans in all of history.” he agreed, a smile twitching at his lips.

“If they find out you didn't obliviate me…”

He brought a hand up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Let me worry about that.”

“You could die for that,” you stressed. “I read that, Percival. Treason. The death penalty. Some death potion or something. I don't know if I could handle that.”

“I trust you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you honestly think I would obliviate the Reader? XD 
> 
> So, this was a rather intense chapter. And I'm not 100% satified with it, but I have edited it and even rewrote it a dozen times, and I think this is as good as I can get it. But just to clarify:
> 
> Reader does not regret sex with Percival. But in a society where sex out of wedlock is a major no still, she knows it may have some severe consequences. She knows if she becomes a single mother, her life will be hellish. She would still do it regardless, even if everyone condems her. But Queenie helped with that.
> 
> Yes. Credence is Graves nephew. It is a crazy idea, I know, but I have been planning this from the beginning. It's partly why Nahuel was attracted to him, because he is kin to Graves. More of that will be explained in either my sidestory, or in book two.
> 
> . However, for the next week I am going to be swamped betwen work and a math workshop. I have decided to go back to college for my BSN (Bachelors in nursing. I have my LPN right now) But my math is right on the line, and I rather not take Algebra again. And the on the 20th, I'm up in the mountains until September, where internet is glitchy. So if I don't get this updated, expect a chapter-dump when I return.
> 
> I love you all!!!


	21. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is a rollarcoaster, and this is a loop of feels.
> 
> McNally really is a softie. Shapiro is a bitch.
> 
> edited 6/20/18

It was late in the evening when you finally left Percival’s apartment. Partially to cover various aspects of this thing, which...wasn’t much. Most of it was trying to delay the inevitable: leaving. As much as you wanted to see Credence again, and even McNally and Nahuel, you didn’t want to leave.

Percival felt the same, and walked with you hand in hand to the boarding house. It was a slow, silent walk that was rather heavy. Finally and all too soon you reached the large brick building, towering over the street. 

You weren’t sure how you were going to adjust to sleeping on that rough mattress after Percival’s bed, but that thought was quickly pushed out of your mind as he pulled close. The kiss was not quite chaste, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue danced with his. It was only when you need to breathe you parted, though your forehead rested against his until your breathing returned to normal.

Before you say a word, he dug in his pocket and pulled the gem from earlier, along with a gold coin. After a quick check that no one was watching, he tapped his wand against the two. It was beautiful as the gold wrapped around the gem, becoming a ring that looked as if it would cost hundreds of dollars. 

But what made your breath catch was as he held his hand out for yours. The ring slipped over your finger, nestling against your knuckle perfectly. He met your eyes as his thumb brushed against your knuckles. So many thing hung in that look, making your heart ache. “Use this ring if you need me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised. 

He brushed your cheek gingerly, looking rather torn. You caught his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. “Go, I can take care of myself. The last thing we need is to be caught.” 

He finally smiled at that. “Yes ma’am.” He pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek before whispering in your ear: “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered just as quietly. He still hesitated for a long moment before pulling himself away. You watched as he turned and walked into a nearby ally, probably to apparate back home.

You sighed, gathering your courage before opening the door and walking inside. You knew Mrs. Shapiro was going to read you the riot act, and it would probably turn into a knock-down, drag out fight. You really didn’t have the energy for it yet, but you supposed you had no choice. 

The other dozen girls were sitting at the long dinner table, busy eating supper and gossiping loudly until you entered. Silence quickly descended when you stepped into view and all eyes turned towards you. And, yep, Mrs. Shapiro was turning a very ugly shade of red.

“Out,” she hissed after a moment of stunned silence passed. She jumped from her seat at the head of the table and stalked towards you.“Out! I refuse to deal with you any longer!”

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” you tried to reason calmly. “If you just let me explain…” 

“No!” she shouted as she shook her finger at you with a snarl. “I am done with you! I’ve gotten rid of your things and your room is already rented. Out!” 

“What?!” you shouted back, no longer trying the meek approach. “You can’t just kick me out! Where am I supposed to go? What do you mean you got rid of my stuff?”

“Exactly that! I tossed everything into the garbage what I couldn’t sell or reuse!” She pushed you back towards the door. “I don’t care where you go, you can go sleep in the gutter for all I care! But you are not welcomed here!”

Too stunned to protest, you allowed her to shove you out, the door slamming in your face. You had been geared to fight, but you honestly did not imagine she would be so pissed to the point to evict you.

You...you had nothing, you realized. No clothes, no home, nothing. 

You walked down the street in a daze. You were...you were homeless. You never imagined this. Sure Shapiro always got mad at you, but you never imagined she would kick you out. It seemed inconceivable.

What would your family say? You dreaded the thought so much you already swore you were never going to tell them. You just had to get through tonight. Tomorrow you could go to the bank, get some money, and maybe find a hotel to stay at until you could find a place. Sure it would cut drastically into your funds, but what other choice did you have?

You could go back to Percival’s but… you couldn’t. For all intents and purposes, you had to act as if he had obliviated you. Besides, your pride was firmly against the thought of asking him for more help after everything he had done for you. There was already no way you could repay him for all that he had done for you. And you had no clue where McNally actually lived, and Credence…. Well, even if you knew where Credence lived, you doubted his ma would be generous enough to let you stay. 

That, and you probably ended up in a fistfight with her. 

The air developed a nip to it as the sun set, reminding you that fall was here and late November was quite cold at night. And you had no coat. It was going to be a long, cold night. You decided to camp out at the alley near the corner store. It was (relatively) protected and rather safe. You hoped.

One night out in the cold wouldn’t kill you. It was like camping. Without a tent. Or a fire. Or your dad’s rifle. Or even a blanket. 

Okay, it was nothing like camping. 

You huddled against the back door of the shop, out of sight of the street and hoped that was a good thing. At least Queenie’s dress was rather warm, probably some charm. It had been a parting gift from her, along with a few tears and a promise she would look after Percival for you.

Would she be able to tell that he hadn’t obliviate you? Would she tell?

Good lord, was this a real good idea?

Why were you even worrying about that? You were homeless. You needed to be worrying about finding a new place. Affording new clothes. New everything.

But Percival was risking so much. He was placing so much trust in you. You couldn't let him down. Not after everything.

One tear became two, and then three. Before long, you were curled up in the doorway and trying to suppress your sobs with your knees. How could everything become a mess in one day? When last night… last night you had been in heaven, ignoring the world outside Percival’s bedroom and whatever the future held.

Maybe this was punishment for your sin.

The wind began to howl, and you pulled your knees in tight in preparation for the oncoming cold gust, cursing your luck. 

Except the biting wind never came. The howl abruptly ceased and when you looked up, you saw a man standing at the mouth of the alley. You rubbed the tears away as you scrambled to your feet, heart pounding in fear. You were seconds from finding a weapon when a familiar voice called your name. Credence’s voice was as hoarse as yours when you cried his name in return. You both rushed towards each other, stumbling as you slammed into one another and wrapping your arms around tight. For a long moment, there was nothing but muffled sobs and strangled gasps as you clutched each other. He was here. He was safe. You kept repeating those two facts to yourself as you clung to him.

“I was so scared,” he admitted finally, voice muffled by your shoulder as his fingers dug into the fabric of your dress tightly. “I thought you left. Or someone took you. Or you were...you were…”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m okay,” you soothed with a hoarse voice as you rubbed his back. “I’m sorry, I was really sick. I was out of it for days.” 

You pulled back, and it was easy to tell he was reluctant to let you go. You tried to offer a smile as you fretted over him, wiping away his tears. “A-a woman told me you were with someone,” he whispered. “Someone named Queenie. She said she was a friend.”

“She is,” you confirmed with a smile, wishing you could find Queenie and thank her. “I-I was staying with Mr. Graves. He took care of me, but I’m better now.” 

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, making your stomach squirm. “It’s so late.”

“Well, I may have been...evicted from the boarding house. Mrs. Shapiro wasn’t very happy about my absence. What about you?” you tried to deflect. “Why are you out so late?”

But Credence wasn’t going to be sidetracked so easily.“You mean…you don’t have a place to live?”

“No, I don’t,” you admitted after a moment before quickly continuing: “But just for the night. I’m sure I have enough for a room at a hotel for a week. And I’m sure a place will turn up.”

Credence had a dubious look on his face, glancing towards the street where a group of cackling girls dressed in flapper dresses passed by the small alley. “Can’t you stay with someone?” he pleaded softly as he turned back towards you. “It’s not safe.”

“I don’t want to intrude on anyone,” you argued stubbornly, but softly. Honestly, his behavior was rather surprising you. He hadn’t argued with you...ever. You were equal parts proud, and slightly piqued that out of all the times for him to develop a stubborn streak, it had to be now. “One night won’t hurt me. I’ll be okay.”

There was an odd look in his eye as he silently debated something before he walked over to the door and settled on the ground where you had been sitting. “I’ll stay with you, then.”

“Credence Barebone, no.” You bit back rather sharply as you marched towards him, hands on your hips. “You do not need to stay with me, I’ll be fine. Besides, what kind of trouble are ya gonna be in with your ma?”

He shrugged, which stunned you. There was no fear in his eyes, no lurking tension in his shoulders of dreading that possibility. “I…I don’t care. I’d rather stay with you anyways.” 

The confession shocked you to the core, but also warmed your heart, draining you of your will to argue any more with him. Instead you sighed, settling down beside him so you were both squished in the alcove of the doorway. “McNally is going to throw a fit in the morning.”

“He'll be happy you’re back,” he replied. “He’s been worried too.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, feeling him tense slightly before he relaxed. “I really messed up, haven’t I?”

“You were sick, you can’t control that.”

“Maybe not, but still….”

There was a pause before he cautiously reached for your hand. “It...It’ll be okay.” his attempted to comfort you was awkward but earnest, causing you to smile and thread your fingers between his.

“You’re a good friend, Credence. I’m lucky to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one,” he insisted as he shook his head, his grip on your hand becoming tight as he trembled slightly. “I...I don’t know how I could’ve held on this long without you.” 

“Honey,” you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as he shook. “Oh, baby. It’s okay. I’ll always be here for you.”

You continued to comfort him, hand running through his hair as he rested his head in your lap. Any worried about helping Percival were firmly put to rest. You would do whatever it took to protect this boy. So what if you were a girl with no magic. No training. Absolutely nothing special about you except one thing. 

You were stubborn as hell.

***

Sometime during the night, you had fallen asleep; you and Credence curled together in the doorway. Not long after that, Nahuel had found both of you and decided to crawl on top of the pile the pair of you created, adding his warmth and his reassuring deep purr. 

And that’s how McNally found you shortly after dawn. You and Credence huddled together like a pair of street urchins, with Nahuel keeping you both warm, and acting as a guard as he opened an eye to glance at the older man. He just stared for a moment, a flurry of relief, confusion, and a touch of anger. Finally he nudged you with his foot, waking you with a jolt, which also woke Credence. Both of you stared confused and bleary eyed up at him. 

“I don’t know where to even start,” he grumbled. “Except you both need to move. It is too damn cold out here for this old man.”

He unlocked the door after you both clambered to your feet. The door opened to the backroom, which was chilly but still warmer than outside. You immediately set to work on the coal furnace while McNally took his coat off, pausing before he wrapped around your shoulders, surprising you. “Are you two trying to catch your deaths out there?” he started, grabbing a spare blanket and tossing it to Credence, who still looked half asleep as he sat at the small table, Nahuel settling in his lap. “Or are you that eager to work? And where the hell have you been, girl?”

“I’ve been staying with Mr. Graves,” you answered cautiously as you donned the wool coat, the warmth seeping into your bones.

“Who?” he crabbed, giving you an odd look.

“Percival Graves. My...my friend. And don’t look at me like that,” you snapped as he started to turn red, his mouth already half-open to yell. “He took care of me. You know I was sick, and then two boys got a little rough with me. But I’m better now.” McNally was red as a radish and Credence was as pale as a ghost. “I’m fine!” you insisted at their doubtful expressions. “I swear, I’m fine.”

“Then why the hell were you camping on my doorstep?!” McNally roared, gesturing with his hands. Oddly, Credence didn’t even flinch like he usually did. “When did you get some damn stupid? Are you trying to get sick again? Or you thinking you could stand being roughed up by a couple more hoodlums!”

“Shapiro kicked me out, okay? I didn’t have anywhere else to go!” You snapped, and McNally turned a shade of red you never seen on a person before. That was apparently not okay. 

“That bitch did _what?!_ ” Even you flinched at that, and Credence withdrew, wrapping his blanket around himself tighter. “What kind of person kicks a young woman out on the streets in November! Wait until she gets a piece of my mind!” Before you could open your mouth, he turned his rage on you. “And you! What about that supposed man of yours? Did he kick you to the curb too?”

“No! I just spent a near week with him! I am not going to encroach on his hospitality anymore than that!”

“Girl, they are calling for snow tonight! Where the hell are you going to stay?”

“I don’t know!” you defended, wrapping his coat tighter around your frame at the mere mention of snow. “I have enough money for a few nights at a hotel. I’ll just go from there.”

McNally gritted his teeth, shoving a hand through his greying hair. “No,” he said after a moment, no longer yelling but his tone still firm. “I wasn’t quite ready, but it’s better than you wasting your money.”

His sudden change confused you. You could only watch as he headed to the attic stairs, pulling out the key to the door. “I wanted to get it spiffed up first, but I can do that later.” He looked back at you, “Well, c’mon. You too, boy.”

Credence gave you a questioning look, and you could only answer with a shrug. You had assumed it was an attic, storage for miscellaneous odds and ends. The door was always locked and McNally had always told you not to worry about it when you asked.

Actually, the exact words were ‘It’s not of your damn business, get back to work.’

The attic was far bigger than you thought. It was a second floor with low ceilings that were barely high enough for Credence, leaving only an inch or two leeway. And, it was an apartment. A furnished apartment, with a small sitting area adjoined to a kitchen with a table and a few chairs. “It was going to be a christmas present,” McNally explained as you entered the sitting area. “I knew you needed out of that damn place, and I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of you livin’ somewhere on your own. I used to rent this place out, but it had been such a pain in the ass I quit a few years ago.”

You couldn’t quite believe your eyes, or your ears. Sure the walls were half-painted, and the bedroom doors were off their hinges, allowing you to see into the two rooms; both seemed to have a twin bed and a plain dresser already inside. “You’ll let me rent it?” 

“Nah, I’m waving it in your face.” McNally answered sarcastically before continuing. “You’re not renting the damn thing, I’m giving you the place. I, uh,” he paused as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward for the first time you had ever known him. “I put both you and Credence here as joint owners of the damn store in my will. Including this place. Ya ain’t renting what’s gonna be yours in probably a few years.” 

You had to have misheard him. A glance towards Credence who had been discreetly trying to look around showed he had the same stunned look on his face. “What did you say?” you asked after a moment. 

“I ain’t no spring chicken,” he answered gruffly. “And I ain’t heard from my brats in at least a good ten years. I’d feel better knowing it was in your hands. You two seem to honestly care for the old place and wouldn’t go sellin it to the first bidder.” 

“Two?” Credence whispered as you tried to digest his words. “You-you mean...me too?”

“You’ve grown on me,” McNally acknowledge, an honest pink tinge to his face that wasn’t rage-induced as he rubbed at his neck again. “You ain’t a bad kid, and you’ll be a hell of a better man than I ever was. Look,” he continued after a moment. “I ain’t good at this kinda thing. You two get some actual sleep and I’ll mind the store today.” 

You could hear him walk heavily down the steep stairs, closing the door at the bottom, leaving you flabbergasted. You...had a place. Your own place.

No, sharing a place. You looked over to Credence, who looked completely shocked and dazed. As much as you had fought, you knew McNally cared for you. Not his much, granted, but he still cared. Credence, on the other hand, had thought the only reason McNally put up with him was for your sake. And, well, McNally had blown that idea to a thousand pieces. 

“You okay?” You asked after a moment.

“This...is a dream, right?” he whispered after a moment. “This can’t be real.” 

“It’s real,” you assured him. “McNally may be gruff, but he cares.”

Credence looked over at you. “H-he called me a good man,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m not...I’m not….”

You cupped his face. “You are. Credence, you're one of the best men I know. You’re kind, you’re smart, and you care. We both know we can trust and depend on you. You may have had a hellish life, but you will rise from the ashes better and strong for it.”

His hand clung to yours, his forehead resting against yours. “I wish...I wish that could be true.” 

“It is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...usually try to add something witty here, but my depression is flaring up, so...yeah. Not feeling up to it right now, sorry.


	22. Twenty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are things looking up? 
> 
> Well, maybe
> 
> Edited 6/20/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings from thr Rocky Mountians!
> 
> I'm on vaca, but I got four chapters done, so I can start posting once a week again!

It was well past noon when you finally woke up, and a quick peek on Credence showed him fast asleep in his bed, Nahuel curled against his back. The...wampus. Not cat, he was a wampus. He blinked his eyes slowly at you, looking perfectly content. Credence looked perfectly content as well, snuggled deeply under the covers, making you smile slightly as a maternal warmth bloomed in your chest. Maybe this was it. Maybe this would finally get him away from that woman. Maybe now he could be safe. Happy. 

The thought spurred you to run downstairs to buy the stuff to make a late lunch/early supper. The store only had a few people when you slipped out of the back room, and McNally was more interested in the newspaper than the customers until he noticed you.“I think I made it clear you have the day off, girl.”

“Food,” you answered simply as you passed him, picking up a few items for a simple breakfast before placing them on the counter next to the newspaper sprawled out. And it was only then you remembered your purse, and all of your money not tucked away in a bank account had been in your old room. And you were virtually certain Shapiro had claimed it as her own. “...can I start a tab?” you asked meekly after he rang up the few eggs, a couple slices of bacon, and a loaf of bread.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grumbled, pulling out his own wallet. “Are you plannin’ on going to Shapiro’s today or tomorrow to pick up your things? I’m gonna go with you and give that woman a piece of my mind.”

You frowned. “Nothin’ to pick up, she took it or trashed it,” you answered gloomily. “I...I’m just too fed up to fight her. After everything, I’m too spent to argue.”

McNally was quiet, jaw clenched as he warred with himself. His grey dyes were hard when he finally answered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” you argued. “Good lord, you’ve done enough for me. I needed new things anyways.”

“Girl,” he started sharply, pointing a finger at you. “I know your bullheadedness knows no bounds, but for pete’s sake, allow people to take care of you.”

That ruffled your feathers. “I can take care of myself, I don’t need anyone…”

McNally snapped your name, interrupting you. He rarely ever used your first name. Girl. Woman. Maybe your last name. But never your first. “Get it through that thick skull of yours. It ain’t weakness to allow people who care about you to help. It’s what family is for.”

His words struck your heart, making you clench your fists. You both were unaware of the patrons that had taken notice of your argument, watching with a bit of amusement. After all, most of them were regulars who knew both of you well. “You don’t get it. I came out here to prove my family wrong. They said I couldn’t make it. They said I would be back in a few months, groveling for help. I’m gonna prove to them I can stand on my own two feet. I don’t need anyone.”

“You’ve been here for nearly six months. You have your own place, two damn jobs, and now your heir to this damn place. Ain’t nobody done that for you, just you. Get it? You proved ‘em wrong. Now go and make you and that boy of yours a decent meal, and then write that family of yours of your success.”

You doubted your family would be pleased with that, but his words stuck with you. When he put it that way, he...kinda had a point. And it would serve Shapiro right for McNally to come unglued on her. So you bit your lip and gathered your things and trudging back upstairs. 

Besides, you didn’t want to tell him you rarely got a letter back from your family. Once when things had been tight and you couldn’t send money that month, they had sent a rather curt note reminding you how much they had worked to make your ‘crazy dream’ a reality. And the other announcing your older brother was expecting his firstborn in a few months, so your dad wanted more money every month.

You hadn’t been aware he had gotten married. You hadn’t received an invitation or anything, which rather hurt.

You would repay McNally, one way or another. It wasn’t just your family you wanted to prove wrong, it was everyone back home that jeered when you dreamt of moving away and finding something bigger and better. 

_“A girl can’t do that,”_ they had sneered. _“You’re nothing if you don’t have a husband. Watch, you’ll be back and begging for your family to take you back in. Or you’ll be on your back making a living that way. And then no man is ever going to marry you.”_

And okay, you had slept with a man that was not your husband, but that was hardly playing the harlot. Right? Even if it was, you refused to be guilty about it. You loved Percival, and refused to think it was wrong.

Thankfully, Credence was awake by the time you returned, giving you a distraction from those thoughts. He looked half awake as he shuffled from his room as you crested the stairs, his hair messy and his clothes wrinkled. “Good afternoon. I hope you're hungry, I found some food.”

He simply nodded his head, rubbing at his face as he and Nahuel followed you into the tiny kitchen. The wampus claimed the window sill where the light was filtering in.

“You’ve had coffee before, right?” you asked while you already set the small pot to brew. It was mostly to fill the silence; you could clearly remember him gagging after trying the black tar McNally preferred, but when you had showed mixed it with the hot chocolate he had easily taken two mugs.

He nodded his head as he settled into a chair at the small table, before realizing something. “Do you want me to help?” he finally croaked out, making you grin. You had never realized how much he wasn’t a morning person. It was adorable actually.

“Nah, I’m good. You just focus on waking up.” You gave him a smile before returning to your work. There was a moment of silence that was only filled by the sizzling pan and the coffee finally coming to a boil, but it was long enough for your mind to wander. “So, I never did get an answer last night. What were you doing out so late?”

There was a long, tense silence, causing you to glance back towards him. His shoulders were tense as he looked down at the table, his hands in his lap and more than likely clenched and shaking. That...was not the right thing to ask, apparently. “Honey, if you don’t want to answer that, you don’t have to,” you reassured, wishing you could take back your words. “It’s okay.”

Credence shook his head slightly, apparently not able to answer. You portioned up the eggs and bacon and settled the plates on the table along with the coffee and cocoa mix. “Here, eat up. I swear you’re just skin and bones.”

There was a long lull as you both ate, the silence continuing to be heavy and tense as you cursed yourself. Why did you have to ask that? Obviously something had happened for him to be out that late. If he had wanted to talk about it, he probably would have mentioned something.

But the question burned at you. He had appeared out of nowhere. You could remember that ghastly howl of what you thought was wind, except there wasn’t even a breeze. Before, you would have shaken the thought off as something else.Except, your eyes were open now. You had heard something similar when you met that cloud. And you knew now that magic was real. There was something about this that wasn’t fitting quite right about this whole thing. Especially as your mind kept reminding you of that dark cloud that had howled the same way. Was it connected? But how??

“Do you…” Credence started, his whisper so soft you barely heard it over the sound of you chewing.

“Do I…?” you encouraged as he hesitated. He still stayed silent, head bowed and food barely touched. “Credence, you know you can tell me anything. I won’t laugh at you, I won’t get mad. And I won’t tell anyone.” Okay, that last one was a little bit of a lie. But you were desperate. 

“There’s…” he started again after a moment, still just a whisper. “A-a darkness, a thing in-in…” he trailed off. Nahuel leapt from his spot in the window and jumped up into his lap, apparently trying to either comfort or encourage him. Maybe both. Either way, it worked as his fingers curled into his tawny fur. “It...it gains control, sometimes. When I’m angry...or upset.” 

Okay. Maybe this wasn’t about that thing. Maybe you had just been jumping to conclusions. “Everyone gets mad at some point of another. You’ve seen me and McNally. And after everything you’ve been through, I wouldn’t be surprised that you lose your temper once in awhile.” 

He shook his head. “This isn’t...isn’t the same. This is...worse. It’s not me, it’s something else living in me. It...it scares me.” He took a breath and looked up hesitantly. “Especially-Especially when it comes out. Sometimes I-I forget I even exist.”

That cloud.  
That form.   
Credence.

“T-that cloud thing?” you breathed, and he nodded his head guiltily.

Holy shit. That was the last thing you expected let alone wanted to hear. You stood, chair scraping against the wood floor making him flinch. He probably expected you to be abhorred. You could only imagine how Mary Lou would have reacted to confession.

You went over to him and pulled him close, resting your chin on his head as you held him tightly. Yes, you would admit to more than a sliver of fear, but you weren’t scared of him. You were afraid what this meant for him. Magic, witches, wizards. It was a tough pill to swallow already, and felt like a fever dream. But...demons? Possession? The thought chilled you to the bone, and you were probably as pale as a ghost. This was a dark realization you weren’t quite prepared to swallow. 

Credence tensed, still shocked that you would do such a thing after he admitted his dark secret, but clung tightly to you, crying into your shirt. “It-it’ll be okay,” you tried to soothe, your own voice shaky as you fought off the urge to panic. 

You could only pray everything would be okay. That Percival would know what to do.

***

“You sure you don’t want help?” you asked later in the day. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.” You gave a teasing smile that would have made him smile slightly in any other circumstance, but this time he was too worried. He may have secretly dreamed of this day for months now, ever since you mentioned the possibility long ago. Leaving his Ma. Having a place of his own, or in this case, sharing a place with you. Honestly, it was better than being alone. 

But going back to his Ma’s house, packing up the few things he wanted to keep, and then telling his Ma that he was leaving for good? The idea terrified him, even though it was something he alway dreamed about. 

“No, I-I want to do this by myself,” he said softly, trying to stop himself from trembling. He looked up to meet your eyes briefly. “I want to be strong like you, and Mr. McNally. I-I can do this.” 

You smiled at him, and pulled him close for a hug. “You are every bit as strong as we are,” you whispered in his ear. “You can do this. But if you don’t think you can, you just let us know. Neither of us will think any less of you if you ask for help.” 

He wondered if you were aware how much you meant to him. He had told you his darkest secret, one that if anyone else knew they would hate him. Fear him. Call him wicked and evil. Yet you accepted him. You pulled him close and reassured him it would be okay. 

And in that moment, he honestly believed it would be. The darkness that had been slowly consuming him since your disappearance had virtually disappeared, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt light. No more heaviness pressing down on him, the vice grip of the beast easing on his chest. He would do anything for you, because there was no way he would ever be able to pay you back for everything you had done for him.   
You had given him everything he had every wanted. 

Acceptance. 

Love.

Hope.

He held on to those thoughts as he left the small apartment and headed home. No, not his home anymore. He left home and he was heading towards his old house. It never had really been a home to begin with anyways. Not even as a small child, just beginning to realize he wasn’t like the other children.

Modesty was sitting by herself out front, drawing with a piece of chalk on the sidewalk. She looked up as he approached, her eyes lightening up as she jumped up and ran towards him, pulling him into a tight hug. “I was so worried! Ma said you had abandoned us!” she gushed, unaware of his surprise as she buried her face into his wrinkled jacket. “I told her you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave us like that!” 

Credence was at a loss for words, his arms wrapping around his little sister. He had been so focused on how Ma, no, Mary Lou, was going to react, he hadn’t spared a thought about Modesty. The realization hit him hard and made him feel almost sick with guilt. 

_“She would be okay,”_ he tried to tell himself. _“Ma likes her. She rarely ever gets beat.”_ But she was clinging so tightly to him, her words echoing in his mind.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t abandon her. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

But what was he going to do? He couldn’t stay here either. He couldn’t disappoint you.   
Could he...take her with him? How would you react to that? You seemed to care for Modesty, and asked about her at least once a week, even though it had been months since Mary Lou forbade the young girl from the small corner store. Part of him was terrified of the idea you could be mad, but something deep in him reassured you wouldn’t mind. 

After all, you accepted him for everything he was. And Modesty was an angel compared to him.

He knelt down to her eye level, heart aching to see her pale eyes watery. “If...If you could get away from here, would you?” 

Her brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he glanced around, making sure no one was around to overhear him. “I mean if you could live somewhere else, would you? Just you and me. Well, and the lady from McNally’s store. Do you remember her?” 

Credence could feel his heart pounding in his chest. What if she didn’t want to? What if she would go tattle to Mary Lou, never mind he was going to have to tell her at some point. What if Modesty chose her over him? 

“Y-you serious?” Modesty whispered after a second. “You’re not...you’re not just playing pretend like everyone else? You’re not gonna tattle on me?” 

“No, I’m serious. I-I got a place. I came back to get my things. And if you want, I’ll take you with me.”

His offer hung in the air, his heart racing as he waited for her answer. Finally Modesty nodded her head, a large grin breaking across her face as she threw her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight. “Yes! Please!”

He smiled despite the growing fear in his heart and pulled her close. He was going to have to not only tell Mary Lou that he was leaving, but that he was taking Modesty with him. She was not going to take lightly to that. 

But he was keeping his sister safe. Maybe Chastity had grown to hate him, but Modesty still cared for him. And he would do anything to protect her for that. 

“C’mon,” he encouraged as she pulled away. “Go get your things. Just pack your good clothes and your favorite doll.” He had enough money to buy her new clothes, if he remembered right. Maybe even enough to get himself some new clothes.

And wasn’t that an odd feeling. He...he was going to support himself. And his sister. And help you out as much as he could, because none of this would be possible without you. The responsibility was foreign but at the same time it was exhilarating. Just like the idea of freedom away from Mary Lou. 

Modesty raced up the stairs, mindless of Mary Lou coming out of the kitchen after hearing the front door creak open. Her curious expression darkened as soon as she noticed Credence in the doorway. Instinctively Credence braced himself, fear temporarily overcoming the small amount of courage. 

But he had to remain strong. He had to be stubborn, like you. So he looked up, forcing himself to meet her cold eyes.

“So, you decided to return,” she stated after a moment, secretly unnerved that he was holding her gaze. He never looked at her other than brief glances. “What, did the whore kick you out as well?” 

Her words ignited a fire within Credence, and the beast flared back to life with such force it almost overwhelmed him. He took a breath, clenching his fist and holding back the anger and rage. He couldn’t let it control him. Not here. Not now. “Y-you know that ain’t true,” he spoke, unable to prevent his stammer. “You know I ain’t like that.”

“You’re your father’s son,” she sneered. “Trying to deny your sins instead of confessing them and repenting.”

His nails dug into his palms as he fought back. “I can understand why my father had an affair,” he whispered boldly, holding her gaze still. “I wonder more about what he saw in you in the first place.”

Mary Lou’s face paled, the plate in her hand dropping to the floor with a loud crash. “How dare you,” she whispered before shouting as she lost her temper. “How dare you! After everything I have done for you, and you’re still an ungrateful bastard! I took you in and put a roof over your head. I adopted you as my own despite knowing you were the bastard son of that whore! Even after your father was killed, I kept you here. And this is how you repay me?”

“I would have been better off if you had given me up,” he argued, the anger fueling him instead of the beast for once. The light bulbs in the few lamps in the house exploded suddenly and the rafters above shook ominously, making Mary Lou jump. She clutched at the cross around her neck, her eyes wide. Credence didn’t even notice, too engulfed by all of the turbulent emotions he had repressed for all these years re-emerging as a violent storm inside him. Finally, he had the courage to speak the thoughts he had for all these years. Finally, he was able to confront her. “You never loved me. You called me evil, even when I was small. You whipped me for the slightest wrong; everything was always my fault. I won’t stand for it anymore. I’m leaving.” 

“You are evil,” she hissed, terrified of the same boy she had never thought would ever turn against her, if only because he had been too weak to do so. But this, this was far more than she ever believed. “The devil’s own brood! The Lord forgive me for ever taking you in.” 

Modesty’s shoes were loud as she ran down the stairs, two sacks made from bedsheets over the small girl’s shoulder. There was a smile on her face until she noticed the tense silence. Her smile fell as she walked to her brother’s side and tugging at his sleeve. “Credence? I got some of your things too.”

Mary Lou’s eye flickered down to the girl, her frown deepening. “Get away from him, Modesty!”

Modesty’s hand wrapped tightly around Credence’s as she pressed closer to him as Mary Lou stepped closer, hand stretched out. “No. I’m going with Credence.” 

The woman forgot about the aura coming off of Credence as she snarled. “Absolutely not. You are staying right here.”

“No,” Credence stepped in front of Modesty protectively as Mary Lou moved towards the girl. “I won’t let you hurt her anymore, she’s my sister.”

“I never harmed a hair on her head,” Mary Lou snarled, “You’re planting lies and evil thoughts in her head!”

“No!” Modesty peeked around Credence, still clinging to his black jacket. “You already took me away from my other brothers and sisters! I never wanted to come here! I never wanted to be with you!”

Mary Lou stopped, horrified. Sure, Modesty had cried when she had first adopted her out of the squalor of a house. But as the years passed, she had assumed that Modesty had adjusted to her new family. To her new home. 

Credence took advantage of her stunned silence, and took the makeshift bags from Modesty and hefted them over one shoulder before taking Modesty’s hand. He didn’t spare Mary Lou a second look before walking out of the house, feeling like he could take a deep breath for once in his life as the door slammed shut. 

Granted, not for long. The closer they got to the corner store, the louder that little voice of doubt in his mind became. Were you going to accept Modesty? Or were you going to be so upset that you would turn them both out of the street? Did he mess up? Were you going to be angry at him? Would you stop caring for him? 

Would you reject him?

Modesty spoke your name, jolting him out of his thoughts. He looked down to see her looking up at him with an innocent expression. “Is she still as nice as she used to be?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, and hoping he wasn’t about to be proved wrong. “She’s real nice.”

“So, are you two in love then?” was her next question, making him pause and a blush cross his face. 

He shook his head. “N-no, it’s nothing like that. She’s...she’s like Chastity used to be. A really protective big sister. Or, or like a mom should be,” he ended in a whisper. How often had the thought passed his mind when you were riled up on his behalf. Despite your small stature and everything, you seemed to be ready to take on the world. For him. Wasn’t that how a mother supposed to be? If he didn’t know something, you would teach him. If he messed up, you would help fix his mistake without a single harsh word, and then teach him what to do next time. 

Modesty accepted his answer with a simple nod of her head, tugging him along. “Chastity used to be real nice, huh? But then she started becoming like Ma...well, I guess she isn’t Ma anymore. Just Mary Lou. Hey, do you think we can change our last name?” 

Modesty continued her quiet but excited ramble, and it set Credence at ease. It had been so long since he had seen her relaxed enough to chatter like she used to. Ever since Mary Lou forbade her to spend much time with him, she always seemed quiet and withdrawn, nothing like how she had been. 

Still, his chest squeezed as they reached the corner store. It was late enough the front was closed, but the back door was unlocked. “Why are we here?” Modesty asked as she looked around the back room of the store, confused. He had forgot to tell her about the apartment upstairs.

“Credence?” your voice called down the stairs before he could answer. “Is that you?”

“Y-yeah,” he called back as you ran down the stairs, only to stop at the last step as you realized he wasn’t alone. His heart pounded as he squeezed Modesty’s hand. “I, um, well, I hope you’re not mad…”

Your eyes were wide as you took in the sight of Modesty, who beamed back up at you. Without a word, the girl ran towards you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug. “I missed you!” she said, her words muffled against your blouse. You automatically put an arm around her back, still rather shocked. 

“I missed you too, kiddo.” You looked up at Credence, confused. Credence supposed confused was better than angry, at least. “What’s going on?”

“C-Can she stay too?” Credence whispered. “I- couldn’t leave her. Not with Mary Lou.” 

You looked between him and Modesty, your mind racing. On one hand, you couldn’t blame him. You wouldn’t want any child left with that woman, and you had missed the young girl. But on the other hand, you were fairly sure Mary Lou had not agreed to this. And Modesty wasn’t exactly like Credence, old enough to make his own decisions. 

But Credence looked so desperately hopeful. And the smile Modesty gave you instantly won your heart as you recalled more of the lively girl that would chatter happily away, playing with whatever you gave her. “Of course,” you found yourself answering, already prepared to dig your heels in and fight with whoever tried to take either of them away. “Of course you can stay.” 

***

Percival woke to an almost unfamiliar purr on his chest. He had fallen asleep in the arm chair, where he had collapsed almost immediately when he was finally able to leave the chaos that Macusa was in. Nahuel blinked lazily at him, purring contently. “I was starting to think you forgot about me,” he grumped, running his hands through his thick fur. “I take it this means they’re okay.” 

The wampus leaned into his hand, making a slight smile form on his lips. Surly that was a sign that both you and Credence were okay, which considering everything was the best news he’d heard in a long time.

Maybe things were finally starting to look up.


	23. Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, most boys bring home a stray dog. Or a cat,” McNally grumbled as he watched Modesty try her best to help her brother stock the shelves the next morning.“Not another kid.”
> 
> I give up on summaries.
> 
> edited 6/21/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS LATE. I AM SO SORRY!
> 
> I was doing my last read through yesterday before I posted, and well, Reader and Graves wanted a little more alone time.

“You know, most boys bring home a stray dog. Or a cat,” McNally grumbled as he watched Modesty try her best to help her brother stock the shelves the next morning. “Not another kid.”

You gave a slight chuckle at that, which was better than the near-panic you had been trying to quell all morning. Granted, not getting much sleep last night as you took the couch and allowed Modesty to take the bed did not help. You planned on looking around for a bed for her sometime soon, and figured your room was big enough for the both of you. “He has a big heart, even after everything he’s been through. Besides, I can’t exactly blame him.”

“You know that there’s going to be hell to pay, right?” he asked quietly after a moment. “That bitch isn’t going to take this lying down.”

“Let her,” you answered coldly, your resolve already solid. “I ain’t letting her hurt either of them any more.”

McNally chuckled, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Atta’ girl. If she thinks witches are real, she’s about to meet the meanest of them all. Either way, I got your back.” 

He turned to retire back in his office, but his words made your stomach squirm. Magic was real, and Credence’s confession still weighed heavily on your mind. You had mindlessly rubbed the ring Percival gave you all night, and this morning Nahuel had dropped off a simple note with just an address and time before stealing Modesty’s heart as well as some of her breakfast. 

The scene had been all too domestic. It hadn’t even been a full day, and yet the three of you had found a rhythm that fit. It was like you had lived together for years; a small, hodgepodge family.

Well, at least you had escape the horror of childbirth. And colicky babies. And toddlers.

The clock chimed noon, breaking you out of your thought. “Hey, I’m going to go meet Mr. Graves for lunch,” you called out as you grabbed your purse and coat. “Will you two be okay?”

Modesty looked up from where she had been stacking cans of vegetables into a pyramid. “Mr. Graves? Is that your boyfriend?”

Her words made you pause, your heart thumping oddly as you met Credence’s gaze across the room. “Modesty,” he hissed slightly, his face turning red.

“What?” she asked with the innocence of a child. “You said she had a beau.”

“Yeah,” you were able to answer as your tongue finally was no longer glued to the top of your mouth. “Percival is my...boyfriend.” 

“Okay!” And like that, she went back to her project, not noticing the fact you were still a little stunned. You had never thought about it that way; or thought of him that way. Percival Graves. Boyfriend. It still seemed like an odd concept. He was so much...more than the boyfriends you had in the past. There had been no awkward admissions of liking each other, or him asking you to be ‘his girl’. None of those usual rituals that always preceded the point where you to were now. You had already told him you loved him, and he made it quite clear how he felt about you. Hell, you had slept with him already.

Yet at the same time, it was bittersweet. It implied the possibility of having a future together, and it was clear that could never happen.

“I’ll keep an eye on her and for M...for Mary Lou,” Credence said as you hesitated for another moment, caught up in your thoughts. 

Honestly, it took you another moment to switch topics in your mind, wistfulness becoming anger yet again just by the mere thought of the other woman. “If she comes around, you let McNally deal with her.”

***

MACUSA was a mess, and Picquery was scrambling to appease the masses while saving face. Meanwhile Graves was doing his best to protect not just Tina, but his whole department from the onslaught of jeers people questioning if the Department of Magical Security was as reliable and competent as they claimed. Questioning if he was the right leader for the job. 

That last one hurt more than he expected; after all, he had devoted his life to this. Years of turning the Magical Security to the joke it had been under previous management and back to the previous glory it had been in centuries past. He had chased out the easily-bribed Aurors, and replaced them with the best witches and wizards he could find. He couldn’t stand to see it crumbling around him after one incident, so he gritted his teeth and poured everything he had into saving it. 

Without throwing Tina to the dogs. Because Merlin knows the girl had her heart in the right place. One screw up like this shouldn’t be the end of her career.

The ring on his finger grew warm enough to catch his attention in the early hours of the morning. The small inlaid stone that had been clear had shifted to a soft yellow. You were worried, anxious, but not in any imminent danger. He focused back on what Jones was saying, though he continued to worry the ring with his thumb. You had been worrying your ring all night, both reassuring him you were okay, but also causing him to wonder what was making you so anxious. 

But as long as the metal didn’t become blazing hot and the stone a fiery red, you were okay. 

But it still troubled him; leading you into this mess was dangerous on so many levels. What if he was wrong? What if that one time had been a fluke? What if when you faced that beast again it would tear right through you without hesitation? You had no wand. No magic. You were completely defenseless other than the few wards he had been able to weave into the ring. He would have put the death sentence on your head himself if something happened to you.

But, he had to put the safety of the wizarding world first, as much as it killed him. He had to take that chance, and pray he could protect you if things ever went south. 

“I’m sick of this,” Jones growled as he paced the length of the office, garnering his attention once more. The young Auror was working himself up as he paced, fists trembling at his side. “She hexes one no-maj, that bitch of all people, and she gets dismissed! Tina’s too good for the damn registration office! And why did you give me a no-maj born?” He asked, turning back to Graves with a scowl as he jumped topic. He stormed towards the chair, hands clenching at the back until the wood creaked against the pressure. “I don’t know what his housemate taught him back at Ilvermorny, but he has some backwater ideas. It’s like having an idiot for a partner. No, I DO have an idiot for a partner. I need someone to watch my back, not wonder about how magic and that no-maj science bullshit work.” 

“Carl is fresh out of Ilvermorny,” he spoke firmly once Jones paused to take a breath, interrupting the troubling tirade. He could understand his frustrations to a point; new Aurors could be challenging to say the least. But at the same time, the senior Aurors he assigned to the junior Aurors to had to foster the right attitude or risk running the junior officers off. “He’s smart and intuitive, but he needs real-world practice. I trust you can keep that in mind and help him to be a successful Auror along with helping him to adjust to our society.” 

Jones gritted his teeth, something flashing in his eyes before he sighed. “Yes sir. Sorry, sir.” He turned to leave, but paused at the door and turned back towards Graves. “My sister asked after you the other day. Well, specifically the someone you were caring for last week.” Jones’ eyes caught his, and there was something lurking in them that made Graves’ stomach twist. How much had the young healer told him? Had she noticed that you were a no-maj after all? “I take it they’re better?” Jones finally asked, with a disarming smile that still made Graves rather nervous. “My baby sister’s concerned, that’s all. You know how I dote on her.”

“Yes, my...friend returned home yesterday evening,” he answered carefully. “Give your sister my gratitude, if you would. I owe her immensely.” 

Jones nodded his head before leaving, closing the door and allowing Graves a moment to himself. He slumped in his chair with a groan, running a hand through his hair. That was close. It didn’t help that Jones behavior was becoming concerning. He wasn’t sure if it was the fact he had lost his partner that had set off this change in behavior, or if it was the cause of Tina’s reassignment that woke this anger and resentment in the young man. 

Just another worry to add to his already-full plate. 

He grabbed his coat, adding the thought to the mountain of worries in the back of his mind. First thing at hand was the fact you were waiting for him, and he needed to find out what was worrying so much. 

Plus, just the thought of being able to see you again lifted his spirits somewhat, and he briefly entertained the thought of stealing at least another kiss before returning to this insanity.

Except as soon as he left his office he nearly ran straight into Queenie. “Sir!” She jumped slightly as he took a quick side step to avoid running into the coffee tray floating beside her. She looked as surprised as he was, though he was thankful as it gave him a split second more to reinforce his occlumency shield. The last thing he needed was her finding out about you. Again. 

“Queenie,” he greeted with a nod, and quickly tried to steer the conversation from the pitying look in her eyes. “How’s Tina?”

“She’s...managing,” she answered slowly with a frown. “She’s got cabin fever already. I told her she should take a few more days, but she’s determined to come back to work tomorrow. At least Mr. Abernathy’s gonna let me show her the ropes instead of one of the other girls.” 

“She’s never been good at being sidelined. Give her my regards, please.” He went to step around her, only for the witch to reach out and briefly grab his arm. “What about you, sir?” she asked when he turned towards her with internal dread. The pity had returned all too soon to her eyes. “Are you ok?”

“I’m...managing,” he answered hastily, unintentionally repeating her.

She didn’t see to accept the answer, her frown only deepening. “Sir…”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. And he really was, after all you were waiting for him, fully aware of not only who he was, but...Merlin, you still loved him. 

Even if you weren’t, even if he had (when he would have to) erase your memories, he knew the only way he could deal with it was to pretend everything was fine until the fiction became reality. 

The frown on her face didn’t budge, however. If anything, it grew deeper. “If you need anything, Mr. Graves, just ask. _She_ asked me to keep an eye on you, and I promised her I would.”

There was absolutely no need to clarify who she meant, and it tugged at his heart. The thought that you had been worried enough to ask Queenie such a thing warmed his soul in a way he couldn’t describe. He still couldn’t believe how much he had fallen for you, or the fact that you seemed to care just as deeply for him.

Love. You honestly told him you loved him. And Merlin, did he love you. 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, though a little more gently. “But thank you, Queenie.”

***

You were already waiting at the small diner, a cup of coffee and a half-eaten pastry in front of you. Both were being ignored as you looked out the window, worrying the ring on your finger mindlessly in the same manner he had. It had only been little over a day since he had saw you last, but that small seed of fear eased seeing you perfectly okay. Well, other than the slight frown on your lips and your furrowed brows.

“So what has you so worried?” You jumped slightly and looked up. He couldn’t help but take the chance to steal a chaste kiss before sliding into the booth across from you. 

A ghost of a smile had chased your frown away, though you still looked concerned. “You mean other than suddenly becoming a mother of two overnight and causin’ Mary Lou to be calling for my blood?”

“...what?” That...was not what he expected; to the point he was almost certain he misunderstood you. 

You went on to explain everything from Shapiro kicking you out and Credence finding you in the alleyway to McNally surprising both of you with the apartment. You glossed over the terrifying conversation with Credence, and skipped to the fact you now had both Credence and Modesty living with you. 

There was a long quiet moment as he tried to digest the information and you anxiously picked at the pastry. He felt incredibly guilty about leaving you on the doorstep that night. He should have made sure everything was okay. He knew your landlady hadn’t liked you, but at the time he had so many other thoughts on his mind. He never thought such a thing would happen. “Why didn’t you just come back to my home?” he finally asked as you looked up. “You’ll always be welcomed.”

You flushed lightly, looking guilty. “Well, I...I don’t want to be a burden,” you admitted ashamedly. “I don’t want to be one of those women who rely on a man for everything. Besides,” you shrugged, meeting his eyes carefully, “You’ve already done so much for me, I couldn’t ask for another favor.”

“I don't think you could ever be one of those women,” he reassured as he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. He loved your stubbornness, and the fact you were determined to stand on your own two feet. But at the same time, he wondered who in your past caused you to think you couldn’t ask for help. “You could never be a burden to me.”

You could feel the blush blooming on your cheeks. Maybe your pride had been a little much, but you still couldn’t regret it. Not when it led Credence to finally leaving Mary Lou, even if it meant there was war on the horizon. “Um, I also had a very...odd talk with Credence yesterday.” You glanced around nervously, and he understood the hint. He brought out his wand under the table, out of sight as he cast a silent Notice-Me-Not spell. A faint shimmery bubble briefly surrounded the table, muffling the outside noise even as it disappeared. 

Any other time, you would have been completely amazed with the spell, but the heavy thoughts on your mind prevented you from really noticing. “Are...are demons real?” You asked quietly, still worried someone might overhear.

“Not...exactly,” he answered carefully, though the question rather confused him. “There are Dark magical creatures, but they’re not the same as demons from no-maj mythology. Why?”

You squirmed in your seat. Lord this was awkward. But it was for Credence. It was real, just like magic actually was. “There was a howl the other night when I was waiting in the alley. It sounded like a horrible mix of a strong wind and a person screaming. But, there was no wind. It suddenly stopped, and when I looked up...there was Credence.”

He knew the two had to be connected, but had he assumed wrong that the boy was unaware of the creature? “Did he see it?”

You bit your lip and shook your head. “I-I talked to him about it.” You paused before meeting his sharp gaze. “Percival, Credence says there is a-a darkness inside him. Something foreign, and it takes control sometimes. I thought he was just talking about getting angry enough you lose control. But, he told me it was that thing. That dark cloud.”

Stunned silence filled the bubble as he tried to process your words. Could that be true? Could Credence _be_ the anomaly? But how? That couldn’t be possible.

Could it?

“What do we do?” you finally whispered. “What is it? Can we get rid of it? Without hurting him?”

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “Shit,” he growled, running his hand through his hair. How could he tackle this? He had been so sure it was a separate entity. What could it even be? A magical parasite? Yet, Credence had no magic to feed upon.

Virtually. He was a squib. He didn’t have enough magic for his power to manifest, but was there enough for this thing to feed off of?

Was it even a parasite? Or something completely different? Something unknown?

“Percival, we have to!” you insisted, clenching at the edge of the table. “This is Credence! The boy has already had a hell of a life. Oh lord, what if this thing hurting him?” You hated this feeling of being completely helpless. He had this thing inside him, and here you were, completely helpless. You couldn’t do anything to help him. It was the absolute worst feeling in the world, crushing your usually strong will. You slumped against the back of the diner bench, no longer able to fight the overwhelming fear and anxiety. It would be one thing if you could do something. If you could scream at this thing and make it leave him alone. Or if you could pummel it into the ground. But this was so far beyond your league. What if it was hurting him? Slowly killing him? What if he lost control and hurt someone? Hurt Modesty? 

You honestly didn’t know if Credence could bear it if he accidently hurt Modesty or you, or even McNally. He was such a soft-hearted boy, always so worried about offending someone, or making them mad. How would he react if he accidently hurt one of you? Accidently killed one of you?

Percival called your name softly, drawing you out of your thoughts “Hey, we’re going to figure this out.”

You looked up, “I’m sorry. I just...He’s had such a hard life, and things are finally looking up for him. I just...I just want him happy and safe.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he reassured with a warm yet somber look in his eye. “I am going to figure this out, I promise. But to do that, I need to know everything.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head before telling him everything you knew. You explained the first night Nahuel led you to Credence, how shaken up he was and the destruction everywhere. Then everything you saw before he appeared that night when you saw the black cloud. How it stopped before you, almost curious. The white form within, reaching out to you. Finally, you retold Credence’s confession, how the boy felt like there was another entity within him, bursting out when he lost control. Percival’s hand clutched tightly around yours the entire time, giving you strength. “What can it be if it ain’t a demon or a spirit?” you whispered in the silence that followed. “What could do that to someone?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the muscles in his jaw tense and a cold, firm glint in his dark eyes. “But I won’t rest until I’ve figured it out.” 

His words reassured you to a point, but the lingering worry was still evident on your face. “I promise,” he repeated, softer this time as he said your name. “I will figure this out.”

***

It wasn’t long afterwards before the clock chimed two, and you grudgingly admitted you needed to return. Percival insisted on paying the bill, and linked your arm with his as he walked you out.

“Can I walk you back?” he asked once you left the cafe, pulling you close and tucking a stray strand of hair in place before his fingers traced along your jaw slowly. 

It was tempting. Tempting to give in, especially as his lips met yours in a slow, gentle kiss, his arm wrapping around your waist. “Mmm,” you hummed as you broke away. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to,” he insisted. 

“You sure about that? Credence is there...and Modesty. She’ll...probably want to know all about you, considering.”

“Considering?”

“Well,” it was difficult to admit. “She thinks you're...my beau.”

That made him smile, an odd look in his eye before he kissed you again, pulling you closer once more. You didn’t even mind the people passing on the street, the shocked whispers and the wolf whistles falling on deaf ears as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You were solely focused on the man that was making you breathless, heart pounding just with the easy kiss.

“I’m going to figure this out,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a chaste kiss to the sensitive skin and sending goosebumps down your neck and across your body. “And then, I’m going to find a way to keep you.”

***

The MACUSA Library way closed, completely dark except for the orb of light that followed Graves through the aisles. Thankfully, being Director gave him unlimited access to the thousands of books in the archive, no matter the time or day. 

Surely something was here. He reached the card catalog desk, tapping his wand on the top of the wooden file system. A door popped open a few rows down, cards floating out and spread out on the top before him. A quick tap on the ones he wanted, and the books brought themselves to a nearby desk. 

One of them had to have an answer. Thanks to you, he had a better idea what he was looking for as he searched through the tomes, the magical books flipping to pertinent pages. He was close, he could feel it. 

He would have his answer. He could fix this whole problem, quieting the worries of the magical worried that exposure was imminent. He could keep you and Credence safe. 

He tried not to think what would happen after. His fragile excuse of not obviating you rested on your help. If he solved the case, what about you? How could he justify his continuation of defying one of the highest laws?

No. He had to focus. The wizarding world was more important that just you and him. He could worry how to keep his second promise after this was solved.

One of the books flipped to a page, a familiar dark cloud twisting and turning on the yellowed paper. It was a perfect match, as if someone had been able to study the thing and draw a perfect portrait. He quickly read the description, his heart going from excited anticipation to absolute horror. 

An Obscurus. 

It was impossible. Absolutely impossible. He remember Credence as a child. No signs of magic, the Healers and everyone declaring him a squib by his third birthday. Besides, an Obscurus usually manifested when a child was young, usually before their tenth birthday. Credence was nearly eighteen years old. How could it be possible? 

Yet everything fit too perfectly. Dear Merlin, had they been wrong? Had they really sent a magical child to live with a family of Scourers? Was all of this their own fault? His fault? All the guilt he already had about Credence’s fate multiplied to the point he felt ill. 

Oh Merlin, they had done this to his own nephew. 

He jumped to his feet, grabbing his coat and all but running out of the library. He didn’t care what time of the night it was. He didn’t care about Rappaport’s law. He had to get to Credence. He had to know if his suspicion was right.

Merlin, if it was….

The doors of the library opened before he could reach them, with Jones stumbling through. The young Auror was alone, looking haggard and completely out of breath. “Sir! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” 

Graves gritted his teeth at the interruption. He needed to get to Credence. He needed to find out if he was right or not. He didn’t have time for this. “I’m in a rush, what is it?”

“An attack upstate,” Jones replied as he caught his breath. “Grindelwald was sighted at the Sayre family estate. Six Aurors have been captured sir.”

That changed everything. Graves felt shell shocked as he tried to process the news. “Grindelwald? On US soil? How? Why wasn’t I informed before now?” How was that possible? How could one of Europe’s most wanted dark wizard show up in America? Let alone one of the oldest and well-renowned family estates? Jones’ own home?

A familiar figured stepped out from the shadows, a cheshire-grin on his face. “Because it would be easier to take you by surprise.”


	24. Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary Lou and Reader finally meet! It goes as well as expected. And McNally's first name is finally revealed!
> 
> edited 6/21/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic violence. Please don't kill me, but Grindlewald is not a nice person in this story. He is downright sadistic in this story, thanks to the wikia tidbit about him being expelled because of his Dark tendencies. I know some stories paint him in a sympathetic light...but this isn't one of them.
> 
> Also warning that I have no clue about how child protective services went about in the 1920s. So I'm gonna use my artistic license on that bit.

Finding two police officers along with a woman dressed in black inside the store was not exactly what you wanted to see after your lunch date with Percival. McNally was talking to the two officers, arms crossed as he stood in front of both Credence and Modesty. The look on the their faces made you forget any worries as it poured gasoline to your building anger. You pushed past the gawking bystanders and stormed inside, hands clenched into fists and ready to fight

Both Credence and Modesty looked relieved as soon as they noticed you. “Can I help you?” you seethed through your teeth, glaring at whom you assumed to be Mary Lou. If you had been in control of your emotions, you would’ve been surprised by her appearance. She was younger than you thought, looking like a modest, barely middle-aged preacher’s wife. Like someone you could go to for support and advice.

Appearances were deceiving.

“These gentlemen are just here to talk,” McNally warned, noticing that you were ready to attack first, ask questions later. There was a stern look in his eye when you glanced towards him, his brows quickly narrowing in a silent command to behave.

You didn’t want to talk. You wanted to punch the self-righteous look off that woman’s face. You wanted to return every bruise and every scar on Credence. For every minute of pain and suffering both him and Modesty endured.

It took one of the officers calling your name to make you think of anything else. “Mrs. Barebone is stating that you and Mr. Barebone here kidnapped her daughter.”

“WHAT?” you snarled, your eyes snapping back to the woman. “You lyin’...!” you caught yourself last minute, noticing the looks on the officer's face. “We did not kidnap Modesty, she came of her own accord!”

“She is my daughter and you took her without permission,” Mary Lou argued delicately yet firmly, her shoulders thrown back and her head held high. “That is, by the definition of the law, kidnapping.” 

“We didn’t take her,” you argued, simmering with rage. One hit. You just wanted to land one hit to wipe that self righteous look off her face. “She wasn’t kidnapped, she ran away from you! She begged me to let her stay.”

The officer cleared his throat; “Be that as it may, Mary Lou is the girl’s guardian, and the girl is not of age.”

“No!” you snapped as Modesty cried and clutched tighter to Credence. “That woman is not fit to be a mother! That child has not been in school since Mary Lou took her into her home.”

“I homeschool my children,” she rebutted with a faint sniff. “These public schools are fraught with lies and blasphemy.”

That made the officers pause and look at each other, giving you an idea. “You do know this woman is the head of the Second Salemer's, right?” you explained with a sneer. “She believes witches and magic are real. She is a literal modern-day witch hunter.” 

McNally gave you an appraising look, nodding to you with a faint smirk as the officers looked at each other once more, and then to Mary Lou, expecting some kind of denial. Instead, she tilted her head up slightly. “I am, and I know these wicked people have worked some kind of spell on her.”

You didn’t even think as you stepped forward, fist ready to swing before one of the officers quickly stepped between her and you, blocking you from your target. “Hold on, miss. I don’t want to have to arrest you for assault. However, Mrs. Barebone, I think this is going to take more than just hearsay. Do you have papers proving that you are the girl’s Guardian?”

The woman paled, a frown etching into her face. “Not on me, no.”

“Well, considering the girl is in no immediate danger, and Nathan here is a decorated retired officer,” he nodded towards McNally, surprising you and raising a hundred questions. “I don’t think there’s any harm in letting the girl stay here for the time being.”

“Excuse me?” Mary Lou’s frown tightened into a scowl. “She is my daughter! She _will_ return home with me tonight.”

“That will be up to the judge, Mrs. Barebone,” the other officer told her as he took her by the arm and escorted her rather forcefully from the shop; the woman squawking and protesting the entire time. 

It made you smile faintly while the officer that had blocked you from attacking Mary Lou sighed. “Sorry about this, Nate,” he said, taking off his cap and scratching his hair. “I thought she was a little touched in the head when she gave me your address, saying your employees kidnapped her child. Didn’t realize how much, granted.” 

McNally shook his head, “That woman is more than a bit touched. She belongs in an asylum. Thanks though, Tom.”

“We’ll be in contact, obviously. But if she come around again and starts badgering you before we can get this processed, you give us a call.” The officer nodded his head to McNally, then to you before he followed his partner out, leaving a moment of silence in his wake. 

“...You’re name is Nathan?”

***

“Do you think I’m evil?” Credence asked later that night after tucking Modesty into bed. The poor girl was terrified and had been hard to console. It took a few cups of warm milk and sitting with her in bed until she fell asleep; softly stroking her hair and reassuring her she wasn’t going to be taken away.

The afternoon had you shook up as well; your hands were still shaking and you doubt sleep would come easy tonight. You were tempted to slip away to a nearby speakeasy, but at the same time you wanted to be here in case she woke back up scared. Plus, you could tell that while Credence put on a brave face for his sister, it was starting to crumble quickly. 

You had known from the moment Credence brought her home that this would happen, and you were going to fight for Modesty tooth and nail. It helped immensely to know you had McNally on your side. (You still couldn’t bring yourself to call him Nathan. Though, you did feel a bit guilty it took you this long to discover his first name, along with the fact he had apparently been a pretty prominent officer back in his prime.) 

“Absolutely not,” you answered as he closed the door to Modesty’s room. “Don’t let her get into your head like that, okay?” Credence refused to look up, his shoulders tense. You sighed as you cupped his face, encouraging him to look up at you.“Credence, listen to me. You are not evil. You don’t even have a single mean bone in your body.” 

“I have that thing in me though,” he whispered, still avoiding your eyes as he stared at Modesty’s door. 

“Honey, I’m not a hundred percent sure that is evil,” you answered after a moment, and that made him look up in surprise, so you gave a soft smile. “I mean, sure it’s destroyed things, but there hasn’t even been one death after all these months. Maybe...maybe it’s just trying to protect you or something. Either way, it doesn’t mean you're evil, or a bad person or anything like that. Okay?”

He nodded his head rather listlessly, making you sigh as you lead him to the small couch in the sitting room. “Listen, I ain’t suppose to say anything, but I have a friend looking into it, okay?”

“Mr. Graves?” he asked, making you pause is surprise. He fidgeted slightly, looking up to you after a moment. “I-I know he’s a witch, ma’am. I’ve seen him and his kind before when I’m….” He trailed off, leaving you more than a little stunned. 

Well, that was one questioned answered. And only a million more created.

“...he prefers the term wizard, actually,” you breathed after a moment, wondering how you were going to explain that to Percival. “Just, don’t tell anyone. No one is supposed to know they exist.” You sighed as you pulled him close, his head resting on your shoulder. “They’re not evil like Mary Lou says. They just want to be left alone, honestly. Either way, he’ll figure this out, okay? We just gotta trust him.” 

***

Percival had thought the end of the war meant the end of this. 

The chains dug into his flesh, adding to the puddle of blood beneath him that mixed with the dirt to create a foul smelling mud. Which he had been in a similar situations back in the war. 

But even then, the war-wizards had followed the ancient conventions regarding the use of Unforgivables. Grindelwald, however, had no qualms using the Cruciatus, or curses Graves had never heard of before but sure they were illegal regardless. One had to be electrical based, making his body spasm as his nerves lit up in pain. Then another that caused all his old scars to rip open anew. 

Grindelwald tried using the pain to break down his mental defenses. He tried to rape his mind, ripping through his thoughts and memories for information. Not for Macusa secrets or any tactical information.

The bastard was after the Obscurus. After Credence. Thank Merlin he still thought it was a new type of previously undiscovered beast. As soon he realized that, he buried all of those thoughts as deep as he could. After all, this was far from his first torture/interrogation. Even with the pain, he focused his occlumency shields to protect both Credence as well as you, and allowed Grindelwald access to the rest.

Macusa and the witches and wizards there could defend themselves. You two couldn’t. And even if you could, you were both family to him now. He would condemn the rest of the world before he would allow anything to harm you or the boy.

The wizard suddenly drew out of his mind, allowing Percival to gasp for breath as the room spun violently. “You know what it is,” Grindelwald sneered, out of breath as well. He gripped the hair on the top of Graves head and yanked back, making the Auror look up at him through the blood caking one eye closed. “That creature is destined for greatness. Give up your futile fight and tell me what it is. Where it is.”

Instead of answering, Graves spat blood in Grindelwald's face. The dark wizard snarled as he stood, slashing his wand towards him. The sharp pain of the lightning-based curse raced through Graves’ limbs, making his muscles convulse as he fell into the mud, his scream muffled by his locked jaw.

“Sir?” Jones called out sometime later, sounding distant as Graves fought against unconsciousness. 

“There are two muggles are involved,” Grindelwald spoke, still sounding rather exhausted. “There’s a boy and a woman, but he’s hiding them from me. They may know something.”

“Possibly the Barebone family…” The door to the small makeshift prison shut, leaving Graves with only silence, darkness, and the stench of blood mixed with earth. 

He had never imagined one of his own would betray him. Not like this.

How had he not noticed that Jones was a Grindelwald sympathizer? He had known the younger man had some issues with no-majs, but he had never thought it was this severe. Had he been so focused on other things that he had missed the warning signs in Jones? 

And what about the six Aurors that had been captured? Was that true? Were they here, somewhere in the bowels of Sayre estate, or were they dead? Or had it all been a ruse just to catch him off guard? 

He tried to inch his way to the door, only for the heavy chains to wrap tighter around his body with the littlest movement. He cursed as he rested limply in the mud, hoping the chains around his chest would eventually loosen so he could breath. His wandless magic was too weak to be of any good, thanks to that initial fight against both Jones and Grindelwald that had sapped him of most of his reserves.

It would be all too easy to give up. He could feel his body wanting to give in after everything. Just to lay here and let the darkness consume him completely. But you and Credence were in danger. The whole of New York, maybe even the wizarding world was in dire risk. 

And with Credence being an Obscurial, every second was too precious to waste. Who knew exactly how long his nephew had before the pent up magical parasite became too much for him to handle?

He had to get out of here. 

***

Nahuel searched through Graves apartment, tail flicking anxiously. His wizard should have been home by now. He knew he wasn’t with you or Credence, and a casual search of his office as MACUSA affirmed that he wasn’t there either. 

Something was wrong. Some new power had appeared, and it was far from benevolent. It disrupted the ambient magic of New York, shifting the balance between Light and Dark.

The balance was a delicate thing, always shifting back and forth like the ocean ebbing back and forth. But this was like the tide pulling back in the moments before a tsunami. It wouldn't be long before it would crash, bringing destruction before things settled.

And if Graves wasn’t here, he needed to be back with you and the kits. You three were the most vulnerable to the storm considering Credence’s own instability. This could have disastrous consequences for him. For everyone.

Nahuel turned tail and ran through the streets of New York as fast as he could. Even the non-magical animals could feel the oncoming storm; the rats scurried deeper into the sewers, the pigeons and other birds becoming flightier than usual. Human kits were crying, still sensitive to magic before the no-maj children learned to ignore and suppress the sense. 

The no-maj locks were easy to manipulate with a flick of his whiskers, and the door automatically latched behind him as he bounded up the stairs. You were in a fitful sleep on the couch, face scrunched into a grimace as you gripped the blanket to your chest. You had been one of the rare no-majs that were oddly still in tune to the magical world around you, which was part of the reason you were drawn to him, Percival, and even Credence. Your strengthening bond to them only heightened the sensitivity, so it was little wonder why you were so restless. 

Modesty was fussy as well, being a young kit still and so close to Credence, but he wasn’t to worried about either of you. His main focus at the moment was Credence. 

Since moving in with you, the boy had been unconsciously releasing the pent-up magic within him, weakening the Obscurus. After all, unlike Mary Lou you not only knew of magic, you embraced it. There was no fear that if you ever found out he had his gift that you would reject him, not while you were in an obvious relation with a known wizard. 

But the natural reaction to the imbalance had made him tense again, gathering the magic within and holding on to it. It was like trying to fill a glass pitcher that was already on the verge of shattering, and using a pounding waterfall to fill it. He jumped onto the bed, curling up on Credence’s chest and purring, trying his best to make him relax. Except Credence continued to shiver in his sleep, mumbling nonsense beneath his breath as he tossed and turned.

Nahuel could feel the Obscurus trying to break free. Like something forcing itself into existence. Even as he tried to knead the boy reassuringly, the darkness continued to swell larger and larger until Credence suddenly shot up with a gasp, eyes white as he clutched to himself, trying to keep in one piece and failing.

***

Nahuel woke you with a yowl and claws digging into the skin of your chest despite your clothes. You flailed with a scream and slid off the couch in a tangle of blankets. Nahuel didn’t give you a moment to collect yourself, but gave an odd cry as he bounded towards Credence’s room. The look in his eyes as he yowled again by the dark doorway made your stomach twist.

Something was wrong. You scrambled off the floor and hurried towards the open door. The room was pitch black, with Credence’s muffled whimpers the only sign that the boy was in there. “Honey? Credence?” you called out, hesitating at the door, Nahuel staying by your side. The room had a window, so it shouldn’t that dark in there. The darkness crept along the doorframe unnaturally, making you cautious to enter. 

White-eye appeared out of the darkness, startling you. “I-I can’t,” Credence whimpered, his voice weak and broken. “I can’t hold it. It hurts.”

The fear in his voice helped you overcome any of your own. You stepped into the darkness, feeling it shift against you like dense fog as you made your way carefully into the room. Not from hesitation, but because you were still unsure where things were. The white eyes, while absolutely haunting and admittedly terrifying, were also so forlorn and desperate you knew without a doubt it was poor Credence. 

He was huddled in the corner of the room, shaking something fierce. Except something was different, and other than the white glowing eyes. Somehow, he didn't seem...completely solid. Dark wisps of... _something_ flowed away from him, caressing you like a ghost as you drew close.

When you knelt down and reached out, his grasp was solid and _strong_ as he desperately pulled you close. Wisps still wrapped around both of you, but he seemed solid enough as he clung to you for dear life, each breath a shudder that ran throughout his whole body. “It’s okay, honey. Shh, it’s okay.” You rubbed his back as you trying to be reassuring when internally you were panicking. 

What was happening? Was this that black cloud fighting for release? What happened if it got out in here? Would it destroy everything? Kill you and Modesty? 

Could Percival save your poor boy? The thought made you cling to him even tighter, trying to keep him together with your own stubborn will. He had to keep it together until Percival delivered on his promise. 

“You’re safe here,” you found yourself whispering. “You both are safe here. I ain’t gonna let anyone break this family apart. And you...you are a good man, Credence, and a wonderful brother. Don’t pay any mind to what that woman has told you in the past.”

You kept reassuring him, telling him how much you loved both him and Modesty. How it may have only been a full day, but you were determine nothing would separate the three of you. That Percival would find a way, and help him with his problem.

Slowly but surely he calmed down, the dark wisps slowly returning and coalescing. By the time the pale dawn was starting to chase away the night, Credence was asleep on your lap, and your own eyes were rather heavy as you looked towards Nahuel. The wampus looked worried still as he laid in the window, his attention on the distance horizon but his tail flicking back and forth nervously.

While you may have averted disaster this time, you knew something was still wrong. You didn’t what it was, but something made your gut roll. More than the threat of Mary Lou.

_“You're always welcome,”_ Percival had said. Maybe you would drop by later today, even though you doubted he had found the answer yet.


	25. Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> You are all going to hate me.
> 
> edited 6/21/18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as we approach the end, it becomes startingly clear....
> 
> This isn't going to follow the movie except in the most basic of ways. So you should probably throw out your preconcieved notions out the door, I finally had to.

Nahuel joined you along your walk the next afternoon, threading between your legs before taking lead, apparently knowing where you were headed. Which, having him by your side was at least a small comfort, giving you more confidence along your walk. Last night had shaken you far more than you were comfortable admitting. 

You needed answers. Or at least to vent about last night’s scare. McNally had been more than a little suspicious when you asked to leave for lunch to see your...boyfriend for a second day in a row. (The term still didn’t seem quite _right_ for Percival, but no other term fit the relationship two between you.) But you were finally able to assure him that no, you weren’t ‘popping out for a quickie’ (though the accusation had planted the idea in your mind, making you rather flustered) and he conceded and allowed you an hour off. But not without muttering something beneath his breath you didn’t quite catch, but reminded you of the few times you ran of with a boyfriend that your father didn’t quite approve of. 

Sure, you had always likened him to a rather gruff, overprotective uncle, but now he seemed to be melding into more a father figure. Well, more than your real father was at this point, who sent the rare letter, usually asking for money. The thought made your heart flip-flop; any boy that had taken you out on a date always had to come talk to your father. That’s just the way things were back home. 

The thought of Percival and McNally meeting under such circumstances….

Well, like everything that involved your relationship with Percival, it was both heartwarming and depressing at the same time.

You were lost in your confusing thoughts until you reached the brownstones. Nahuel’s tall tail suddenly lowered, his ears no longer perked but pinned back against his head. The sudden change caught you off guard, making you rather cautious as you opened the door for him. The wampus paused instead of slipping inside per usual, his head peeking inside as he surveyed the marble antechamber warily before stepping inside. Your own wariness had turned into a strong sense of _I-really-shouldn’t-be doing-this_ , but you stubbornly continued to follow as he slinked up the stairs, the stripe of fur along his spine raising while his tail fluffed. He may be a wampus, but you were strongly reminded of barn cats doing the same moments before getting into a fight. There was absolutely no doubt in your mind something was wrong, and you could only wonder what could make him act in such a way. You had never seen him like this, not even before when he confronted those two drunks. 

He turned the corner off the stairwell, disappearing for a moment from your sight. When you reached the landing just a few seconds later, there was a cougar-sized wampus waiting for you, growling lowly at the empty hall. 

Something was very, very wrong. 

Despite common sense screaming at you to turn and leave, you continued to follow Nahuel down the hall, your heart pounding in your chest. He reached the door before you, and before you could even raise a hand to knock he twitched his nose and the door swung open.

It looked like a tornado had ripped through the once pristine and orderly apartment. Every single book was knocked off the tall bookcases, cluttering the floor with ripped and burnt pages. The plush leather chairs and couch were overturned and torn to virtual shreds. The odd trinkets that once lines the desk and shelves were scattered everywhere, most of them broken to bits. 

The scene made you feel ill. You moved to step inside to see what else was ruined, only for Nahuel to step in front of you, easily blocking your path in his current form. You protested, but he nudge you away carefully before closing the door the same way he had opened it. There was a flare of light, a shimmery curtain briefly encasing the door before disappearing. You had a strange feeling if you tried to open it, you wouldn’t be able to even reach the brass doorknob. Instead, you allowed Nahuel to lead you away, a hand on the thick fur of his shoulders to steady yourself until shrunk to his usual size once you reached the stairwell.

Had Percival destroyed his own home? What would drive him to do such a thing? Was he angry about something? A case? You? Credence? 

_‘Or,’_ your stomach twisted as that dark voice whispered in your mind as you unconsciously hurried back to the store, walking as fast as you could without running, _‘did someone invade his home? Ransacking it in search of something?’_

Was Percival ok?

Your thoughts only became darker and more terrifying as different scenarios played out in your mind. You barely noticed when you reached the store, until there was a scream. You instantly tensed, ready for a disaster to materialize, only to have Modesty pounce on you as soon as stepped inside the store. 

“Momma! Mr. McNally gave me some school books!” she announced cheerfully, completely oblivious to the maelstrom whirling within you. “Him and Credence have been helping me read ‘em too!”

You blinked down at her then glanced up, where McNally was trying to ring up a customer, the tip of his ears red. You...were still stuck on the sudden shift from anxious worries to the wide smile on Modesty’s face.

Wait.

“Momma?”

Her pale eyes widened, going from happy to fearful in a split second. You noticed Credence tense in the corner of your vision, and McNally pause. 

“S-sorry,” she stuttered your name. “I-it just slipped.”

Your heart was in a blender as you knelt down to her level. “I mean, if you want. But you know you don’t have to call me mom unless you want to.” You honestly wouldn’t know why she would want too, but your words eased the fear from her face as she looked down shyly. 

“You...remind me of my real mom,” she whispered after a moment. “Before she got sick and...you know. These last few days have been like finally being able to go home.”

Oh. That completely destroyed any reservations. You pulled her in close, closing your eyes for a moment she held onto you tightly. You could only imagine losing your mom, then being shuffled back and forth before somehow ending up with a woman like Mary Lou.

Poor Modesty. 

Poor Credence.

You glanced up at Credence after a moment giving him a soft smile in hopes to relieve some of the worry on his face. You were a family after all. And you were determined to be a better...whatever you were to both of them. A mom. A sister. A friend. 

Now if only you could only reassure that Percival was safe, and figure out what that thing within Credence was. You would dream of that happy ending, and try not to focus on what came next.

***

“Stay strong. Please, Percival, you gotta stay strong.”

Oh, fun. He was at the hallucinating phase. Or maybe he was just lucky and finally fell asleep long enough to dream.

Either way, you felt all too real beside him, pulling him close so he could rest his head on your shoulder. Your scent was faint, but still there. A sweet reprieve for the ungodly odors that filled his prison. Your fingers slowly brushed at his scalp, just scratching enough to be pleasant. There was no pain, just comfort. Even if this was just a dream, he felt relaxed just by your presence. A moment of relief from the hell that surrounded him.

“You know we’re waiting for you,” you murmured softly, pressing a kiss to his head. “Waiting for you to come home.”

A home. The idea was heaven at the moment. Having a home, a family to return to after all of this. Ever since graduating, he’d been more or less by himself. A letter here or there and a mandatory visit on holidays that was alway unbearably strained. 

But he could easily imagine a home with you. With Credence. Hell, even Modesty, the small girl he only knew by name. Maybe even a child of his own, a child with you. 

Credence appeared like a mirage, hovering in the shadows. Scared. Alone. He tried to reach out to the boy, only for him to disappear with a wisp, too weak to exist. He was going to die if he didn’t get out of here in time. You all were. 

“Is protecting this thing really worth it?” your question came out of the blue, making him freeze, even in the haze that clouded his mind. “You’re in so much pain, and we miss you…”

His fist clenched and he forced his eyes open despite the spell. His own face was glaring back at him, a snarl contorting his lips. “A filthy muggle whore?” Grindelwald sneered as he stood up and brushed off his stolen suit. “That’s your weak point?” 

Part of Percival wanted to swear and demand that Grindelwald leave you alone. If that bastard laid a hand on either you or Credence...well, he could already feel rage bubbling from the mere thought. 

Yet at the same time, he knew if he said anything it would only give the dark wizard fuel, so he bit his tongue and kept quiet. He couldn’t risk showing how much you two meant to him, let alone that the creature Grindelwald sought was actually Credence. If he gave that away, it would totally destroy him.

“How ironic,” Grindelwald gave a bark of humorless laughter. “The director of magical law enforcement, the one who is supposed to uphold that ridiculous law, and you’re having an affair with a filthy muggle.”

A sharp flick of his wand sent a curse flying into Graves, who bit his lip, silencing his scream as electricity coursed through his body. Denying Grindelwald the pleasure of hearing the agony he caused, which only put the dark wizard in a fouler mood. “And the boy?” he demanded as he paced. “What, is he yours as well? A pathetic squib with that whore? Granted, she must have been a child at the time.” He paused as he turned back to Graves with a wicked smirk. “Or is that how you like your women? I have to admit, she is rather young for man your age. Or do you consider her on the older side?”

Graves gritted his teeth to remain silent, though the glare he had was strong and firm as ever. Despite his frustration with Graves, Grindelwald actually enjoyed the man’s stubbornness; it made breaking him all the delightful. “I don’t want trash, especially if it’s been used. But that boy, Credence? Is that his name? I imagine I could break him easily. Make him beg for pain so he could have a moment of pleasure. Maybe I should make you watch as he calls someone else daddy.”

Something snapped in Graves. Unfocused magic lashed out, sending Grindelwald flying into the stone wall with a resounding crack. Except as the dust settled, Grindelwald only laughed as he picked himself up. “So that’s your weakness,” he grinned as he wiped the blood from where he bit his lip. “The boy.” Which, it should have been telling. The same boy Graves tried to protect was the exact same boy he had seen in his visions.

He had to be the key to getting his beast.

Someone running echoed through the chamber as Grindelwald composed himself, his mind already turning with new plans. Maybe he would get to torture a few muggles after all. 

“Sir!” Jones called out as he arrived at the cell. “President Picquery is looking for you. I mean, Director Graves.” He spared a glance at the man, who was glaring at them with enough intensity that Jones knew they were both dead men if Graves ever got free. There would be no trial. No mercy.

Simply death.

“Damn it,” Grindelwald cursed. Part of him wanted ignore the summons. He was so close, he was sure of it. 

But he still could not raise suspicion. Not yet.

***

It was late in the evening, the shop empty except for the occasional customer. You had Modesty sitting next to you in one of the booths as you tried to help her with arithmetic between the odd customer. 

Which, honestly, math wasn’t your best subject. But it was giving you a distraction from enigma of Graves’ apartment, and the nagging worry that something was wrong. So you tried your best along with Credence, who proved he was smart with numbers and had quickly picked up on the lessons, but wasn’t confident enough to take over. So he would interject here and there, and explain things quietly when you were struggling. 

Which, again, was fairly frequently. Math was hard enough with a clear mind, and yours was a whirlwind of worry even as you tried to push everything aside to focus on what was in front of you. Because what could you do? Search the city for him? You had a feeling if you tried to go back to the apartment, Nahuel would stop you. The wampus went from lazy-cat to constantly on edge, watching people file in and out with a critical eye. 

Even if you did return and you did happen to encounter something unpleasant, you were defenseless. Helpless. There was literally nothing you could do, and admitting it was a harsh pill to swallow. You had to trust and have faith in Percival. 

You hated sitting and waiting. The only thing keeping you from going insane was the fact at least time you had both Credence and Modesty with you. Assuring they were safe at least. Happy, even. 

The bell chimed over the door, breaking your thin concentration. You looked up with a smile, expecting another late customer. 

Except it was Mary Lou that walked in, tense and severe looking as she clutched a bible to her chest. She was closely followed by a younger woman with red hair and wide curious eyes that were tinged with a familiar fear. The atmosphere of the shop changed in an instant as you stood up. “Sorry, ma’am,” you bit out with a snarl. “But we’re just about to close. I’m gonna have to ask that you leave.”

Mary Lou stood her ground, clutching her book tight. “I came to talk to you,” she stated calmly but firmly. “Perhaps I should have done this first instead of involving the police. I ask you, as a woman and surely a fellow Christian, to please return my child to me.”

You glanced down where Modesty had scooted to the corner of the booth, eyes wide and face pale. Then over to Credence, who was out of Mary Lou's sight but not yours. His shoulders were tense, his dark eyes meeting yours for a brief moment. “I don’t believe either of them wish to return,” you stated coldly as you looked back to Mary Lou. “So the only way you’re getting anywhere is if the judge rules in your favor.”

Her eyes narrowed faintly, her lips pressed thing before she continued: “You are so young and don’t even have a husband. And Credence is hardly fit to raise a child. You may think it is easy, but you are merely playing house. Soon the fun times and laughter will end. What will you do when it comes time to discipline her? To tell her no and she throws a tantrum?”

“I don’t think you have any right to judge us,” you growled, fists trembling at your side as you fought to keep a hold on your rising temper. “I know exactly how you discipline a child, and it ain’t right. I don’t know how anyone gave you right to adopt those kids, ‘cause you a downright wicked woman, Mrs. Barebone.”

You could see her own temper flare, and she was about to say something when Credence stepped into view. “She didn’t adopt us,” he spoke softly, although the glare he sent towards Mary Lou was anything but. “Not the legal way, at least.” The revelation stunned you for a moment, and for a brief second you cheered silently as Mary Lou gaped for words. She wasn’t the legal guardian! She had no more rights to Modesty than you did, maybe less even. 

The young woman seemed anxious to leave, giving Mary Lou pleading looks as she tugged at her hand, but the old woman was either oblivious or ignoring her. “You wicked boy,” she snarled towards Credence, and he flinched out of reflex. “I will not let you corrupt that poor sweet girl.”

You tightened your fists as your emotions spun from celebrating to raging anger. “Get out of my store, now,” you growled as you marched across the store towards her, gesturing to the door behind her. The young woman seemed eager to follow your command, but Mary Lou stood her ground and met you head on until there was barely a few feet between you two. “If anyone is evil and wicked, it’s you. I will fight you tooth and nail before I let you have either of them.”

Mary Lou was apparently as brave and stubborn as you as she took a step closer to you in a silent challenge, her eyes hard. “I don’t want that bastard child, and I never did. But give me my daughter before she becomes a whore like you.”

You weren’t even aware of what you were doing until your fist crashed against Mary Lou's face, her nose crumpling against your knuckles. The other girl screamed, jumping away as Mary Lou fell to the ground. You think Modesty may have screamed as well, but you were to focused on the woman in black. “I am sick and tired of your bullshit! You get the fuck out of our home and leave us be!” You went to kick her where she half-laid on the floor, stunned with a heavily bleeding nose, only to have Credence yank you back, his arms wrapped around your arms and chest.

“Chastity, get her out,” Credence commanded as you struggled against him, blinded by rage. Chastity hesitated for a moment before she hastily complied. She helped the dazed Mary Lou off the floor, trying to drag her out the door as you continued to fought against Credence.

“You ever come near my family again and I will show you the meaning of pain!” you yelled as the woman tripped over her own feet towards the door, giving into the fact Credence wasn’t going to let you go any time soon. 

“You’re as wicked as he is,” she gasped between her bloody nose and a missing tooth. “You--you witch!”

“If I was a witch, you’d be dead!” you screamed as the door slammed, the bell ringing sharply in the silence that followed. It took a long moment for you caught your breath, Credence still holding you tight. Though, it was less restraining and more of a hard embrace. “I hate that woman,” you whispered, finally leaning into him. “I ain’t ever hated someone as much as I do her.”

Credence said nothing, but you could feel him shaking slightly. Modesty emerged from her hiding place beneath the table, eyes wide and pale as she glance, half expecting Mary Lou to pop out and grab her before she reached you. “Are you okay?” she asked once she did reach you, grabbing a hand firmly. 

“Yeah, honey. I’m fine,” you assured her, stepping away from Credence who finally let you go. You glanced up at him, expecting the same fear or worry, but instead... he looked angry as he glared at the door. Your stomach twisted slightly at the anger in his expression. This was a side of Credence you hadn’t seen before, and honestly scared you a little. You pulled at his hand slightly, gaining his attention. “Everything is going to be okay. She can’t do anything to us.”

He bit his lip, the anger disappearing before he nodded his head. Still, the image didn’t leave your mind as you closed up shop, or even as both you and Credence tucked Modesty in bed, staying with the young girl until she finally fell asleep. 

“Are you okay?” you asked after closing the girl’s door and following after Credence to his room. He was never the most talkative of people, but you could see him retreat more and more into himself as the evening wore on. You were sure something was eating at him, and you worried that he might lose the fragile grip he had over whatever it was inside him. 

“I almost lost control,” he spoke, confirming your fears. He hesitated awkwardly in the middle of his room, obviously not ready to go to bed but wasn’t sure what else to do. “It’s...it was so close.”

“But you didn’t,” you tried to reassure him, stepping inside. “Instead, I was the one that lost control. You were the better person from stopping me from beating the hag.”

There wasn’t even a twitch of a smile on his lips. “I-I couldn’t let you get in trouble. If you got arrested...I don’t know what I’d do. What we would do.” 

If you didn’t feel guilt before, it now weighed on your heart, making the moment of triumph feel infinitesimal. You had never thought of that. You weren’t just your own person anymore. Credence was relying on you, as was Modesty. Whatever happened to you affected them. There was a line between defending your home and just beating the snot out of that woman because you finally had the chance. 

If Credence hadn’t stopped you, you were sure you would have crossed that line.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I didn’t think. I...guess I have quite the temper, huh?”

“No, you….” he paused, shaking his head. “Her temper is scarier than yours.” He was still shaking, and in the light you could see black wisps trailing from his frame, almost like smoke. “She hurts others when she's mad. Blames them for the smallest things, even when there’s no way it’s their fault.”

“Oh honey,” you pulled him into a tight hug. “She is never gonna hurt you again. Or Modesty for that matter. You are both safe here. There’s no safer place, I promise.”

As soon as you said those words, Modesty screamed at the top of her lungs. It was like setting off a line of dominos. You jumped at the sudden scream, and Credence….

Credence exploded into smoke. Or at least what looked like it. You never seen smoke act like a wild maelstrom, whipping around and cracking the walls before bursting out the door with an unnatural howl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *runs*


	26. Twenty Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epic climax! Of part one, that is. 
> 
> edited 6/21/18

There was no time to think. You rushed out the door, yelling after Credence. You were barely able to see Modesty huddled on the floor of the sitting room, hands over her head as she screamed. The smoke--Credence-- was swirling around her, partially obscuring her from view. There was a sharp stab of fear before you realized he wasn’t hurting her, but protectively defending her.

Percival stood in the middle of the sitting room, his wand out and pointing towards the girl. Percival’s eyes were wide as he gaped at Credence just as you tried to process the scene. He recovered from his shock first with something akin to a grin, yet somehow _not_ at the same time. It was unlike any smile you had ever seen, let alone from him as he raised his wand towards Credence. A bright flash of light erupted from the wand tip, and the thunderous roar of pain from Credence overshadowed your own scream of fear. The cloud of smoke gathered in on itself before he slammed into Percival, plowing the wizard into the floorboards before Credence quickly turned burst through the sitting room windows, still howling loudly. 

“Credence!” you screamed again to little avail as you rushed towards the broken windows, mindless of the glass cutting the soles of your feet. His haunting howl pierced your heart as he tore down the street, crashing into the crowded buildings without restraint before he turned and disappeared from view. 

You spun towards Percival with a snarl as he pulled himself up off the floor. “What was that?! You said you would help him, not-!” 

Your rant was cut short as the man turned towards you. There was a snarl of hate, a look of utter contempt on his face that stole the words out of your mouth, leaving you breathless. He may have looked like Percival, but his eyes...his eyes were cold as ice. There was no way, _no way_ that this was the same man you loved. 

The snarl grew as he slashed his wand towards you without warning. You threw your hands up out of instinct to try and defend yourself as the lightning bolt raced at you, even though the rational part of you knew there was no way it was going to help.

Except it did. The bolt struck the ring on your hand, and all you felt was a strange sense of static shock as the ring somehow absorbed the energy. There was a small moment of surprise on both ends before he recovered and his wand whipped through the air, magic arching from it to you in brilliant flash of light. Once more, the magic was harmlessly swallowed by the ring, which only added to his fury. He attacked again and again, each swing becoming more and more violent. 

There was no way. No way that this wizard before you was Percival. There was no way he was the man you loved, his face that usually showed his poorly-restrained love for you now contorted in hate. There was no way he could look at you with such revulsion. Such rage. It seemed impossible that Percival would try to hurt you like this; trying to kill you even.

But yet, how could it be anyone else? 

A roar brought an abrupt halt to the seemingly endless assault as Nahuel came out of the shadows, sprinting towards Graves. The wampus left the floor as a cat and plowed into the wizard as a cougar, slamming him into the floor once more. Nahuel’s massive teeth clamped down on the wizard’s arm, earning a howl of pain in return. He stubbornly refused to let go even as Graves focused his magical barrage on the wampus; spells slashing his muzzle while the wizard tried in vain to kick him off. 

You took the opportunity and ran towards Modesty, who was still cowering on the floor looking pale as a ghost with her eyes wide as saucers as she watched the struggling pair. You were just thankful that she didn’t seemed to be hurt. “Honey, c’mon,” you whispered when you reached her. “We gotta go now.” 

She jerked, ripping her gaze from the fight between wampus and wizard. “Momma!” she cried as she scrambled towards you, arms wrapping around your neck. She was a little big to carry, but the adrenaline rushing through your body along with the fact she was a waif of a child helped you swing her up on your hip and run towards the staircase leading down, taking the steps two at the time. 

By the time you reach the street, you were out of breath and your thoughts were a blur as you tried to make any form of sense about what just happened and more importantly, _what to do next._ One part of your instincts wanted to keep running. To find a safe place for you and Modesty to hide until the danger was over. Another part of you wanted to run after Credence and find him, help him to calm down and regain control. And the last part wanted to confront Percival and to find a reasonable explanation for everything. One that made sense. There had to be a good reason he was doing this, right? 

A logical, sensible reason other than the fact he suddenly hated you. 

Modesty slipped from your grip, standing on her own two feet yet still plastered to your side with those scared eyes looking desperately at you for guidance. As hard as it was, the fact was you had to get her somewhere safe before you did anything else. And the only safe place you could think of was McNally’s home, but it was at least a mile away in the opposite direction from the destruction Credence had left in his wake. You hated the idea of going even further away from him; it only meant it would be even longer before you could find him. 

There was a rustle behind you, making you jump in fear and Modesty scream in fear. She hid herself behind you as you spun, ready to fight.

Except it was only Nahuel limping out of the shadows, still in his larger form and looking more than a little worse for wear. His tawny fur was singe in places, lacerations criss-crossing his head and shoulders. Modesty clung tighter to you, but you felt a huge rush of relief as he padded towards you, bumping his head against your leg with a low rumble-like purr. “You are my hero,” you whispered to the wampus, crouching down and wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in his fur. You had no clue what you would have done if he hadn’t been there. You doubt whatever magic was apparently in the ring would have kept you safe forever. 

Which raised a question. Percival had given you the ring himself, yet why had he acted so surprised as it kept you safe?

“I need you to do something for me,” you spoke to the wampus as you pushed that thought away. At the moment, it didn’t matter. “Can you take Modesty to McNally’s and keep watch over them?” You received a skeptical, doubting look as you pulled away. As if he disapproved of the idea of you being by yourself. “I need to go after Credence,” you explained. “I have no clue what’s going on, but I need to find him.”

“Don’t leave me!” Modesty protested, clutching on to you once more despite her fear of the big cat. She tugged at your dress with large eyes that were still shining from tears. “You can’t leave me! Please!” 

You turned towards her, pulling her close to you. “Sweetie, I don’t wanna leave you, but right now Credence needs my help. Nahuel’s gonna take good care of you. I know he’s a bit scary looking right now, but he’s the same cat, I promise. Ain’t nothing gonna hurt you as long as he’s around, okay?” 

Nahuel gave a deep purr as he stepped closer to Modesty, acting like his playful self in an attempt to gain her trust. The fear in Modesty’s eyes was still plain as day, yet the girl took a step closer and bravely held out her hand. He bumped against it with a purr, making her smile despite everything. A small bit of you relaxed, thankful that you had at least that situation resolved. 

“You guys head to McNally’s, okay? You’ll be safe there.” Actually, you had no idea if they would be or not. Hell, at this point you didn’t know anything. But you had to put on a brave face. You couldn’t let Modesty know how scared and confused you really were. How lost you were.

You stood up, looking down the destroyed street with dread. You were terrified, confused, but you couldn’t sit back and do nothing. You had tried that, and this is what happened when you relied on others. 

Modesty called your name timidly, grabbing your attention once more. Nahuel was plastered to her side, coming up to the girl’s shoulder as she held onto the black collar around his neck. “Are you...are you a witch?” 

You smiled and laughed; more hysterical than anything. “Honey, I only wish I was.” 

***

With the Occumay safely tucked away with its brethren, Newt and Tina along with Queenie and Jacob took a much needed rest on the top of the roof near Macy’s department store. While Queenie and Jacob quietly yet excitedly talked about the differences between raising owls and pigeons, Tina stepped towards Newt who leaned on the wall, his eyes scanning the dark city. It was past midnight, but people were still dotting the sidewalks while the streetlights, cars, and so many different other things making the city sparkle like a field of stars. 

Only the no-maj would create such a sight that rivaled the heavens above. 

“You’re sure that’s the last one, Mr. Scamander?” Tina asked as she came up beside him, mimicking his pose. “You don’t have any more creatures roaming around out here?”

He offered a slight smile as he glanced at her. “I’m positive. All of them are accounted for. I, uh, counted twice this time just to make sure.”

Tina relaxed slightly. “I should be taking you in. I can’t even count how many laws you broke tonight alone. But…I don’t know. Something’s off back at headquarters, and the last thing I need is to lose my job. Again.” 

Newt’s smile died slightly. “I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow, promise. I plan on catching the first train heading west in the morning.”

There was a faint howling wind that quickly grew louder, interrupting the quiet moment. Tina froze as she saw a familiar black cloud hurtling down the street, crashing into buildings and throwing cars like toys. It had been several days since the creature had appeared, she had hoped the thing had gone back to wherever hole it had appeared from. 

“Impossible!” Newt commented to himself, eyes wide. “It’s in its prison. I saw it myself.”

That caught Tina’s attention. Her eyes were wide as she spun to face him. “Wait, you know what it is?” 

“What do you mean? It’s an Obscurus,” he explained as if it was obvious. “You saw it in my case. There is no way it could have gotten out.” Yet his eyes didn’t lie, except this one was far larger than the one from the young Sudanese child. It was ridiculous how massive it was compared to the small form he had captured.

It was also far more destructive. 

“That ain’t yours,” Tina said, shaking her head as she gripped her wand. “It’s been haunting New York for the last several months. Long before you showed up.” 

“Months?!” Newt exclaimed, but Tina had already apparated down the street. It was impossible. Obscurus’ usually killed the host within a few weeks of first emerging. There was no way it could survive for months. 

“Queenie, Jacob,” he called out as he hurried over to where the two were looking at him in shared confusion. “Look after my creatures, please.” He placed the suitcase in Jacob’s hands, and after a brief moment on consideration he placed his hand-written book on top muttering more to himself: “Just in case.” 

Before either of them could say a word, he disappeared with a faint pop. “What in the world,” Jacob swore, looking down at the battered suitcase with dread. Don’t get him wrong, he loved the little guys in it, but how was he supposed to take care of them? 

“I-I’m sure they’ll be okay,” Queenie tried to reassure, though the tremor in her voice belied her fear. “Mr. Scamander and Tina will be back. I’m sure of it.” In all honesty she wanted to go chasing after them, yet she also knew that not only was she not exactly the best in a fight, she couldn’t leave Jacob alone with a suitcase full of magical creatures. She couldn’t leave him alone without the suitcase either.

“Credence!” The shout echoed up from the street, the familiar voice catching Queenie’s attention. She rushed to the edge of the roof, peering down to see you running down the street.

“Oh no,” she whispered, turning back to Jacob. “Sorry, honey. I’ll be right back.” 

Jacob protested, but Queenie had already disappeared for a brief second before she appeared down on the street. 

***

You were running as fast as you could, bare feet slapping against the pavement as you chased after Credence. You had seen him for a split second, only for him to turn out of your sight once more. Your legs ached, your feet were probably blistered and still oozing blood from the broken glass in your apartment, and your lungs felt like they were on fire, but you kept pressing on. You had to reach him. You had to stop him. 

You had to save him. 

Someone was yelling your name, and you were planning to ignore them until they grabbed your hand, yanking you violently to a stop. Your heart leapt in fear, expecting Graves despite the feminine voice, only for you to do a double-take when you recognized the blonde witch. “Queenie!”

Surprise flashed across her face, “You remember me?”

Oh. Shit. Right. “Look, that’s not important,” you hurriedly excused, reality quenching the brief moment of surprised happiness from seeing a friendly face. “Listen, that thing is Credence. He’s scared and I have to get to him. I can talk him down, I swear.” 

Her eyes flitted between you and the wreckage that littered the street. “Honey, I don’t think that’s safe. Tina and Mr. Scamander went after him, I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

You shook your head viciously, ripping your arm away from her. “No! I trusted Percival, and look at what he did! This is--this is his fault! I ain’t gonna wait around anymore. _I’ll_ fix this myself!” 

You took off before she could stop you, almost expecting her to hit your exposed back with a spell, but nothing came. Not until you passed a few more blocks and Queenie suddenly reappeared in front of you, along with a rather short chubby man clutching a battered suitcase. You slid to a stop, your feet protesting to the abuse. “Queenie!” you started, only for her to grab your hand, pulling you close. 

“Hold on,” she commanded sharply, her usual warm eyes full of steely determination. “I’m not used to side-along apparition.”

There was no time to protest or do anything. One minute you were in the middle of the abandoned wrecked street, the next you were in the middle of a war zone. Buildings were missing chunks as if a giant had taken a bite out of them. Bricks and trash off the street were whipping around in a violent wind, making it hard to see. You still could recognize Graves staring up at the dark cloud that was Credence, mindless of the destruction around him as his black coat billowed in the wind.

You ignored the sharp stab in your chest at the familiar sight of Graves, and ignored Queenie as well as she pulled the other man down, sending up a barrier to protect the three of you from flying debris. “Credence!” you called out, competing with the wind as Queenie tugged futilely at your ruined clothes. “Please! Credence! Listen to me!”

The black cloud churning anxiously above paused, even slowing slightly which gave you hope despite the wind that continued to ravage on. “That’s it. It’s me. Listen to me, everything is going to be okay.”

Except everything was not okay. Graves had apparently noticed your interference, and was as pleased with it as before. Curses started to bombard Queenie’s shield, yanking your attention away from Credence. Queenie let a faint curse slip while she clutched at her wand, focusing on her spell protecting the three of you. 

“Director Graves!” You heard another voice shout out. A brown haired woman rushed from somewhere, her spell hit Graves in the back and knocked the wand from his grasp.

Your attention snapped away from Graves as you noticed the darkness above start to move. No longer like a raging wind but like smooth oil slick, slowly condensing as it drifted towards the street. By the time he reached the subway entrance, Credence was mostly human though his eyes where a blinding white as he glanced towards you before disappearing down the stairs. You glanced towards Graves, who was in the middle of a duel with the other witch before dashing towards the subway entrance, ignoring Queenie’s protests.

***

The ring burned on Percival’s finger, the metal glowing as the stone turned a deep dark red. There was only one thing it could mean. You were in life threatening danger, and Percival had a sick feeling he knew exactly who it was. 

He had to get out of here. But as much as he tried, Grindelwald's spells held firm. His own magic may have returned, but without a wand it was too unfocused to break the spells. 

“D-director Graves?” The stuttering voice broke his concentration, and he looked up to see Jones’ sister at the cell door, her face pale and her eyes wide. “W-what are you…?”

“Get. Me. Out. Of. Here,” he commanded sharply, causing the Healer to jump slightly. Her wand was shaking as she opened the locks of the cell door and quickly rushed in. 

Except the chains proved to be more stubborn, and the more she tried to undo the spell, the more she shook until she admitted timidly: “I-I can’t sir. I’m-I’m sorry but I-I can’t.”

The ring was still burning against his skin, making him agitated. Every second he wasted was a second too many. He feared that any moment the ring would suddenly cool, the gem cracking as you…. “Give me your wand.”

She quickly complied, surrendering her wand without hesitation. “I-I was looking for my brother,” she explained nervously as he worked on the magic keeping the chains wrapped tightly around him. The wand felt odd in his hands, and he could tell it was not made for this kind of spellwork. His own wand would have made short work of the intricate magic. “He told me not to come down here, but, but….”

The chains finally fell from him, and for the first time in what felt like forever he could stand properly. Granted, his muscles protested with dull aches at suddenly being stretched, but he ignored the pain. He had been in worse shape, after all. “Where’s Jones?” he snarled.

“I-I don’t know. I thought he was here somewhere,” she answered weakly, tears in her eyes. “W-what’s going on?” 

“I don’t have time to explain.” He stumbled past her and stepped into the dimly-lit passageway of the catacombs. There were multiple makeshift cells lining the passage, and he could finally see that Grindelwald hadn’t been lying about his other Aurors being captive. “Get the others out of here and get them treated.”

“Y-yes sir. But what about you?” she paused, finally looking at him with a Healer’s eye. “Sir, you are in horrible condition. You need to come with me to Mount Sinai too.”

“I don’t have time.”

***

Credence wasn’t exactly waiting for you when you descended into the subway station. Or at least not in the way you expected. Instead the black cloud was more like dark sand, eerily creeping up along the wall of the subway tunnel. “Oh honey,” you whispered as you walked towards the edge of the platform. The sand shifted slightly, acknowledging your presence and making you realize he was listening. “Credence, you need to pull yourself together,” you continued softly as you climbed down onto the tracks below, your eyes fixed on him. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

Slowly the sand drew together and Credence formed on the other side of the rails, shivering violently as he crouched against the wall looking like a whipped dog expecting the worse. You took a steadying breath before slowly walking towards him, trying not to spook him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as you drew closer, screwing his eyes shut as he flinched. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetie, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You knelt down when you reached him, and there was a flinch as your hand touched his shoulder. He looked up, so much fear evident in his eyes that it made it hard for you to smile and not just roughly pull him in for a hug. 

But as soon as he realized you were everything but angry, he all but plowed into you, nearly knocking you over as he wrapped his arms around you and clung to you as if you were a lifeline. Once you caught your breath back, you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing back as you kept whispering reassurances. “Shh, it’s okay. You didn’t hurt anyone. Modesty is okay. I'm okay. Nahuel's okay. Everything is going to be alright.”

In the stillness, you heard another pair of footsteps descend the stairs over Credence’s muffled sobs. Your already pounding heart leapt to your throat as you looked up and saw Graves descending the stairs cautiously, his eyes narrowing when he noticed you. 

“Percival, I don't know what’s gotten into you, but please,” you begged, clutching tighter to Credence as you felt him freeze, wisps of blackness starting to blur his form once more. A deep part of you knew your pleas were falling on deaf ears; his dark eyes were still so cold, so full of hate as he sneered down at you that it was like a dagger in your chest. Still, you had no other alternative. “Help us. Help Credence.”

“He’s an Obscurial,” Graves stated coldly as he approached the edge of the boarding platform, looking down at both of you. “And it’s people like you that create them. You loathful muggles are the ones that make wizard children afraid of their own magic.”

Credence started to shake violently, and a glance at him revealed his eyes were once more a blinding white. “Percival!” you cried, holding Credence tight as your heart pounded painfully in your chest. “You know that ain’t true! You know I ain’t like that. I’m not like Mary Lou! Sweetie,” you turned back to Credence, tears in your eyes. “I ain’t afraid of your magic. If you have magic, I am so happy for you. I’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

His eyes faded from white to his normal dark brown as he looked up at you, fearful but there was a small glimmer of hope. Desperate hope. “Magic is evil,” he whispered. “Unnatural. Unholy.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the only noise that escaped was a scream. Pain raced through your body, unlike anything you had ever felt. It felt like your whole body was both on fire and being ripped apart at every joint. Credence screamed your name as you fell back, but you didn't hear him. You didn't even feel the hard bar of the rails as the whacked your head as you landed with a thud. All you could feel was complete pain and agony. 

All you could do was scream. 

***

When Percival was finally able to trace your ring, he hadn’t expected the scene before him. The street was in complete ruins, and his Aurors had raised a barrier over the plaza, centering around the subway station.

You were down there, somewhere. And he didn’t even want to imagine what might be waiting down there for him. But he was ready to face whatever it was, and tear everything apart to assure you were safe. 

He stumbled through the crowd of gaping no-majs, mindless of Rappaport's law or the Statutes of Secrecy as he waved his borrowed wand in front of everyone to create a doorway in the barrier. He heard shocked whispers and ignored them, and was so concentrated on the subway entrance he was oblivious to the looks the Aurors gave him when they noticed him. None of them had the courage to say anything, let alone stop him. Not only did he look like he had walked through hell and back, but it was obvious by the look on his face that he was on the warpath. 

Merlin help whoever pissed him off.

However, President Picquery had no such qualms when she noticed him. She turned and marched towards him, intercepting his path before he could reach the subway entrance. “Graves!” she shouted, grabbing his attention. There was a mix of anger and concern on her face as she took in his appearance. “What the hell is going on?”

“Seraphina get out of my way,” he seethed in no mood for all these interruptions. He tried to step around her, except she took a neat step to the side as well, a stern look on her face.

“Percival Graves,” she started, ready to rip into him before the station suddenly exploded. The Obscurus erupted from the ground with a deafening roar, rushing upwards until it crashed into the top of the barrier. It gathered in on itself before diving underground again. Percival took the distraction, pushing past Piquery as he ran as fast as he could with a limp, trying to block out the pain. 

The station was filled with the Obscurus, and he could barely see Grindelwald as the Obscurus tossed him around like a rag doll in a raging sea. Credence threw him into the wall before picking him up again and plowing him into the porcelain tiles of the platform. There was a grim feel of satisfaction at the sight for Percival, until he caught a glimpse of you, bloody and broken on the subway tracks. Far too still. His heart plummeted as he stepped towards you, only for the Obscurus to lose interest in Grindelwald, rushing from the bloodied dark wizard to hover over your form protectively, almost blocking you from sight. 

Percival hesitated, giving the Obscurus a wary look. Could he reason with it? Was Credence still there? Or had any trace of his consciousness been ripped away? “Credence,” he spoke softly, hoping to Merlin he wasn’t wrong as he slowly hobbled closer to the rolling black cloud. “Credence. I know that’s you. I am so sorry. This is my fault.”

The Obscurus paused, stilling above your body. There was an odd sense of Credence looking between him and the unconscious Grindelwald, confused. “I’m the real Graves.” Percival explained slowly, softly. “He’s not me. I would never hurt you. Or her. Please, let me help her.” 

There was no change. The Obscurus continued to linger over you, the darkness churning slowly. Percival took a chance by taking another step, feeling bold when Credence didn't move. He slowly walked to the platform's edge, and felt Credence watch him warily the whole time. Percival’s attention shifted from Credence to you, his stomach twisting. You still hadn’t stirred, but he could see your chest move as you gave short pained gasps. There was blood caked in your hair from a head wound, but what caught his attention was the faint arches of magic dance along your body. Your face was twisted in pain and your mouth open in a silent scream.

Cruciatus curse. That bastard used the Cruciatus curse on you. 

He breathed your name as he climbed down onto the tracks. Forget about Credence, Grindelwald, and the fact that Picquery and probably every single Auror could come barging down here at a moment's notice. There was no reversal spell for the Cruciatus, but he could at least be with you as the spell ran its course. He grabbed your hand as he knelt down beside you, calling your name. “Come on sweetheart, you can fight it. Just breathe. Just relax.” Your eyelids fluttered, but that was the only sign you were aware he was even there other than the death-grip on his hand. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, brushing your hair as guilt crushed down on him. This was his fault. He should have never involved you. He should have never lowered his guard. He should have seen through Jones’ ploy. He should have realized the truth about Credence sooner. 

So many should haves, all worthless now. 

Footsteps thundered down the subway stairs. Before he could look up, magic crackled in the air as the Aurors automatically fired at the Obscurus. Credence gave a ear-splitting shriek, curling into a tight ball to protect himself. Graves reached for his borrowed wand, but a shield had already been placed between the Aurors and the Obscurus before his fingers curled around the wand. 

“Goldstein!” he heard Picquery snap. “What the hell are you doing?”

“That is an Obscurus,” he looked up to see a frizzy ginger-haired man standing next to Tina, his wand aiding the ex-auror’s shield. “It’s a human being, some young witch or wizard who needs help. Not attacked.”

“It is a threat to the magical world,” Picquery answered coldly, her eyes darting to Percival as he climbed up to the platform with you in his arms. “Great, it’s killed a no-maj as…” She trailed off as she noticed Grindelwald was beginning to stir, her eyes widening in confusion as they darted between the two men.

Percival quickly adjusted his grip on you and fired a binding spell towards Grindelwald, though it earned every Auror’s wand being pointed in his direction. He ignored them as he carefully sat you down on the platform, relieved to see the pain was slowly fading from your face. The spell must be near its end. 

“That is Gellert Grindelwald,” he explained, keeping his wand lowered as he stood back up. “He has been impersonating me for several days with no one the wiser, thanks to several traitors in our midsts. And that is my nephew,” he gestured to the retreating Obscurus with a hard look aimed at Picquery. “You harm him and you will answer to me.”

He watched as a few of the Aurors paled, trying to discreetly glance at the others. “You expect me to believe that?” Picquery said, oblivious to the traitors that surrounded her. “That Gellert Grindelwald could kidnap my Director of Magical Security and replace him without anyone noticing? That is ridiculous.”

Thankfully at least one person was on his side. Tina stepped forward and turned her wand towards Grindelwald, twisting it slightly. “Revelio.”

He was going to promote that witch for her sharp thinking. Grindelwald’s stolen features slowly shifted into the dark wizard’s own sharper face while the dark hair becoming pale blond. The dark wizard snarled, somehow breaking his bonds with wandless magic and then reaching for his stolen wand. The Aurors (or at least the loyal ones) proved to be quicker as so many spells hit the wand it was a wonder it didn’t splinter into a dozen pieces. Instead it shot across the station, landing with a clack against the subway rails. 

The Obscurus, which had been a boiling condensed cloud slowly unfurled, drifting down until Credence regained his true form on the subway rails, bending down to pick up the obsidian wand. Picquery lost her usual stern composure as she looked confusedly between the sneering dark wizard, the bloodied director with his nephew timidly climbing up on top of the platform to return his wand to him. And you, still unconscious at Percival’s feet.

Finally the president groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t forget about the large mob of gawking no-majs on the surface, many with their odd ‘cameras’ that would give proof to the rest of the world magic existed. 

This was a mess. A huge unprecedented debacle breaking virtually every stipulation of Rapaport's law and the international Statute of Secrecy.

Fucking Mondays.


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap of Part one of the story! But it's not the end, I promise! 
> 
> 6/21/18

Everything was a whirlwind of activity. The Aurors that were spies of Grindelwald had fled, and most of the others were biting at the bit to chase after them, but the Exposure took precedence. Thankfully, Tina stepped in and easily took command. She worked quickly with Newt to concoct a way that would somehow Obliviate the whole of New York and hopefully prevent certain disaster. No one dared to challenge her authority. Not even President Picquery. 

Graves almost wish she had. Instead, the usually calm and reserved witch was pacing in front of him. He had given in to his body’s complaint and sat down on the broken tile floor, leaning heavily on the wall behind him. You were lying beside him, still unconscious from Grindelwald's assault. A quick spell had reassured him the wards he had worked into your ring had protected you from any severe injury; leaving you with just a mild concussion among scrapes and bruises. Credence was on the other side, his hand wrapped around yours as he watched Piquery pace with obvious confusion and mistrust in his eyes. 

“Do you know how many laws you broke?” Picquery finally swore, stopping in front of him with a hard glare in her eyes. “Wait, of course you do. Your the Director for fuck’s sake. What the hell were you thinking? Allowing a no-maj to go un-obliviated? Goddess above, of all the people you would have the last person I would have suspected to commit such idiocy!”

Percival met her eyes, unbothered by her glare that often sent others into emotional breakdowns. “If she hadn’t helped me, things could have been a lot worse. She was an invaluable-”

“Bullshit,” Picquery interrupted with a sharp snap, making Credence flinch. “I was not born yesterday, Graves. You let your heart and your cock cloud your judgement.”

There was only a small moment of hesitation before he sighed. “Perhaps, but I still stand beside the fact that if it wasn’t for her, none of us would have even thought to entertain the idea of an obscurial. Things could have been a lot worse, Seraphina. You have to admit that.”

She closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “I was so happy for you too,” she sighed. “I hadn’t seen you happy since…” she trailed off, looking over at Credence. He withdrew a little, clutching your hand a bit more firmer. “Well, since he was born.”

Credence looked over to him, confusion evident on his face. But maybe a little help as well. Percival offered him a small smile. He wished this reunion could have happened under happier circumstances. That he could sit him down and explain everything. But the way things were, he knew this would be the last time his nephew would tolerate his presence. After tonight, Credence was bound to hate him. 

“You know what has to be done,” Picquery added softly. There was a soft, pitying expression on her face, a drastic change from her angry tirade. 

“Yeah,” he answered just as softly, his attention drawn back to you. He brushed a piece of hair from your face, trying to memorize every last detail. “I know.” 

“If you want, I can have someone else…”

He shook his head. “No. I will. I owe her at least that much.”

Despite the doubtful look on her face, she nodded her head and then walked over to Credence, offering a smile and a hand. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I? I’m Seraphina, President of this whole circus. And you, of course, must be Credence.” 

He nodded his head faintly, pressing himself against the wall like a scared animal, clutching at you tightly. Merlin, this wasn’t going to be easy. “Well Credence, I want you to come with me to Mount Sinai to be checked over by our Healers, to make sure your okay.” 

He shook his head, “No. I-I’m not leaving her. She needs attention before I do.” 

“Percival is going to take care of her,” she continued with her same patient smile. Even as cut-throat about politics as she was, Percival remembered how patient she could be. “But we need professionals to help you before you lose control again.” 

“It’ll be okay, Credence,” Graves lied. “I promise.” 

There was still mistrust in his eyes, and for a moment he feared he could tell he was lying. But Credence finally gave in, accepting Picquery’s hand. The witch didn’t hesitate for a second before quickly apperating away. Percival could only pray that the Healers and mediwitches at Sinai were ready for what happened next. Or when Credence learned the full truth. 

He prayed they could all deal with what happened then. 

***

You woke with a jolt, taking a deep breath as you sat up quickly. You expected to be at the subway station with chaos surrounding you. Instead, you found yourself in your bed back at the apartment. The room bared no evidence of what had happened, and you could almost believe it was all just a horrible nightmare. 

Except Graves sat on the side of your bed, looking like hell. His face was disfigured by deep purple bruising and swelling, his tattered suit caked with blood and mud. A smile twitched at his lips as his dark eyes met yours for a brief second before you screamed and scrambled off your bed. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he tried to soothe, trying to move only to wince and fall back down on your bed, leaning against the headboard. “Please, just…”

“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” you screamed as you pressed yourself against the wall, wishing you had some kind of weapon. Even if it would be pointless against his magic, a bat or something would be comforting in your hands. “Don’t you dare! What did you do?! Where’s Credence? I swear if you harmed one hair on that boy’s head Percival Graves, I will kill you!” 

“Credence is fine,” he stated calmly, a resigned expression on his face. Nothing like earlier, but you weren’t going to be deceived so easily. Not again. “I swear on everything and anything, that wasn’t me. I could never do that to you, or to him.”

You stared at him for one long moment, taking in how rough he looked. Most of his wounds weren’t fresh, but at least a day. Still, you remained skeptical. “What, do you have a crazy identical twin running around? Because that psycho looked exactly like you. Sounded a lot like you too.” 

“Not exactly. His name is Grindelwald, and he’s a dark wizard,” he started. “I’m not exactly sure what spell or potion he used, but it wasn’t me.”

“Magic,” you stated and he nodded. 

“Magic.” 

“Where’s Credence then?” you asked, relaxing a little but not completely. “Let me see for myself that he’s okay.”

He shook his head. “He’s being checked out by the Healers at Mount Sinai. It’s been centuries since the last obscurial was reported in North America, so I’m sure they’re swarming right now.” 

The other-Graves words echoed in your mind. “So Credence...that thing...that was because he was…”

“A wizard,” he confirmed, looking heavy hearted. “An Obscurial, which is a fancy word for a wizard or witch scared of their own magic. Magic doesn’t like to be suppressed, Merlin knows how he survived this long. Usually it kills before they become teenagers.” He paused before stretching out his hand. “Please, sweetheart.” 

You hesitated for a moment before taking a step towards him, and then another. As soon as your hand touched his, he pulled you down to him. He smelled like sweat and blood, but the way he held you close, burying his head in your neck was heartachingly familiar. Something inside you broke as you clutched at him despite the smell, sobs bubbling up in your chest. It was him. This was the man you loved. “God, Percival. I was so scared. I couldn’t understand why. Why would you do that? Why did you hate me? Why you would try and…”

“Never,” he swore, pulling back and cupping your face. “I would never ever hate you or Credence. I swear I would never do something like that to anyone, least of all you two.” 

“He’s going to be okay though, right?” You asked again, leaning into his touch. “Credence. He’s going to be okay?” 

“I’ll make sure of it,” he answered, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help him. Even if he hates me, I’ll do my best to help him.” 

For a split moment, you wondered why Credence would hate him. Then realization dawned on you, and your heart crashed into your stomach. “Your case is solved,” you whispered, and saw the hurt in his eyes, confirming your fears. “That means…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, but he nodded anyways. This was it. You had known this day was coming. You told yourself you had been prepared for it. 

But lord did it hurt. You were going to lose both of them. The man you loved. The boy you loved. 

“T-take care of yourself too,” you whispered, trying to ignore the tight feeling in your throat but unable to stop the tears trekking down your face. “Please. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I promise,” he answered, his voice just as rough. You couldn’t bear to see the tears in his eyes, and instead you pressed your lips to his, ignoring the odd taste of dried blood that caked his chapped lips. He met the kiss with a desperate passion, tangling his hand in your hair as he tried to drink you in.

“I love you,” you gasped as you broke apart. You couldn't open your eyes in fear of crying as you rested your forehead against his. “Just remember that, okay? I love you with every fiber of my being.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered as you felt the tip of his wand rest against your forehead.

“Obliviate.”

***

The triage of Mount Sinai was a flurry of activity. Healers in white robes darted about, intermixed with medi-witches in soft blue following behind or tending to less-severe patients. Security dotted the room, dealing with nosy patients that refused to leave, or reporters trying to get a juicy break. 

Graves bypassed them all, going instead towards the door guarded by Queenie. He didn’t fail to note her red eyes when she gave him a slight smile. “Tina’s in there, along with Alvarez and her apprentice. I think they have him calmed down.”

“Thank you,” he nodded before opening the door to the exam room. Alvarez was standing next to the door, studying the information from her charms. She barely gave him a nod, and he barely returned the gesture, focused more on the corner of the room where Credence was huddled. Jones’ sister sat on the floor, a hand gripped in his, and Tina knelt in front of him, speaking something softly.

“You sure like bringing me difficult cases,” Alvarez stated quietly. “I’ve seen a lot in my life, but this is a first.” 

“You can help him though, right?” He asked, his eyes not leaving Credence. He could see his eyes becoming heavy, and finally saw an empty potion bottle in Sayre’s hand. Instead of assuring him she could. Alvarez stayed quiet for a long moment, even as Credence finally started to lean on Joan. Graves turned to Alvarrez, who had a frown on her face. “Alvarez…” 

“To be honest, I don’t understand how he is still alive,” she finally answered. “His pent up energy is too much for my charms to properly sense. Anyone else would be dead. He...he could be one of the strongest wizards of our time, and the terrifying bit is he has no control. Just a portion that magic unleashed could kill, even without a wand.” 

“That’s not helping,” he growled. 

“I know he’s your nephew, but I’m being realistic, Graves. There is no precedent for this. The truth is, I don’t know if we will be able to help him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Monster & Men has it's own Tumblr!](http://www.monsters-verse.tumblr.com)


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